Stubbornness
by kylermalloy
Summary: "There was no denying that Melanie had died a long time ago. Her sacrifice had broken Jamie's and my heart. So how was I supposed to feel now that her body snatcher has found its way back to us?" Jared's point of view of The Host. Why on earth is he so stubborn?
1. My Worst Nightmare

**Hi!**

**So as stated in the summary, this is Jared's point of view of the novel. Surprisingly, so far, Jared's headspace has been incredibly easy to get into. I still don't really like my own writing, but for some reason I'm excited about this story. Tell me what you think!**

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><p><em>I walk toward the house, placing my heels down first, then rolling my weight forward silently. There are no lights. Just in case, I grip the handle of my father's hunting knife as I creep up to the quaint little house. Sweat drips down my back, and I long for a breeze to awaken the still night and cool me down.<em>

_Quiet as an Indian—as I fancied myself as a boy—I mount the steps to the patio door. They've left the glass arcadia door slid open. How careless. It's ironic how they aren't scared of each other like we were, but they are the scariest things _we_ can imagine._

_Standing in the open doorway, I scan the darkened house for any—any sign of…_

_Movement._

_Someone is moving across the floor toward me._

_For a split second, I stand frozen on the patio, my shadow stretching out on the tiles toward the girl—for it is a girl, a teenager, an innocent-looking thing who would be my downfall. The parasite that looks like a young woman sees me and squeaks in terror, whirling away from me, like she's been caught too._

_Ha. No, it is I who will be caught if I don't _deal_ with this monster._

_I whip the knife out, run forward, and grab this fragile creature who will be the death of me. "One sound and you die."_

_It surprises me by speaking, not breathlessly with fear, but in a low, angry hiss. "Do it. Just do it. I don't want to be a filthy parasite!"_

_"Clever," I whisper. It's pretending to be human, trapped by a parasite. By me. _I'm_ the parasite. "Must be a Seeker. And that means a trap. How did they know?" I wrap my hand around its throat. Its body is so small. Choking it seems _wrong._ But I know what I'm doing is right. Justice._

_"Where are the rest of them?" I want to kill it. So much. More, nonsensically, than I wanted to kill the centipedes who caused the death of my family and left me alone. But I can't kill it yet. I have to figure out its trick._

_"It's just me," it gasps, its voice raspy. I'm hurting it._

_Good._

_Suddenly, it rams its elbow into my stomach, trying to get free. I'm not letting it go. It's lying to me. There's no way only one of them would come after me._

_It kicks me. I'm thrown off balance for a second, and it tries to run. I tighten my grip again, holding it to me. "Feisty for a peace-loving body snatcher, aren't you?" When it comes to life and death, I suppose, the parasites are just as self-preserving as we were._

_It claws at me some more, its long nails scratching my hand. I squeeze its neck harder. "I _will_ kill you, you worthless body thief. I'm not bluffing." My fingers overlap around its little neck, the tips meeting in the back, right where the disgusting little scar is. I will leave it a new scar, in front._

_"Do it, then!"_

_Why does it tell me to kill it? This trick doesn't make any sense. My fingers are right where the scar would be, and yet I don't feel anything…_

_I gasp. My fingers release its throat, both hands now feeling for the scar that should be there, that would be there, if, if…_

_"Impossible," I whisper. Suddenly her actions and words make sense. I reach in my pocket for a light. With my other hand, I spin her around and shine the flashlight in her eyes. Left, then right._

_There's no reflection._

_"I can't believe it." Something I haven't felt in a long time is growing in me. Hope. I'm not the only one. "You're still human."_

_I feel a rush of affection for this girl, this human girl in front of me. Without thinking, I pull her face closer to mine and I kiss her on the mouth._

_Her lips are so soft._

_I never saw her face clearly in the dim flickers of my flashlight. I don't care. She is human. That is enough to make her beautiful._

_She moves her leg suddenly, and then I feel astonishing pain in one of the few sensitive parts of me. I gasp, unable to breathe. As I react to the pain, she dodges out of my arms, past me and out the open patio door._

_Just when I want her to stay, she runs. Now I'm the threat._

_"Wait," I choke, still winded. I can't even walk yet._

_She pelts outside, and I hear little _thumps_ as something falls out of her pockets. Some kind of provision, probably. Everything she did makes sense now. She came into this dark house, raiding the fridge, keeping completely quiet. When I found her, she thought _I_ was coming after _her_. She's in the same boat I am. I can't let her leave._

_Somehow I regain my balance, and I'm staggering after her. She is so fast. If not for the bulky bag in her hand, I'm sure she would be far away and invisible by now._

_I yell after her, not caring now about attracting attention. "I'm not one of them!" I'm not, and neither is she. Some reckless part of me doesn't care if I _am_ caught now. At least I'm not alone. "Listen to me! Look, I'll prove it! Just stop and look at me!"_

_She's off the gravel driveway now, running away into the desert. Desperation fuels me. I sprint. "I didn't think there was anyone left! Please, I need to talk to you!"_

_It dawns on me, then, that she might not be running because she thinks I'm a parasite. Perhaps I scared her off with my wild, animal reaction. "I'm sorry I kissed you! That was stupid! I've just been alone so long!"_

_Finally, I'm close enough to hear her speak. "Shut _up!_"_

_I won't. I can't abandon another of my kind._

_I leap for her, make a flying tackle like I used to in football. She falls under me more easily than the opponents I remember. "Wait—a—minute," I pant, in between raspy, painful breaths. I haven't run that fast in a long time._

_She squirms under me, no doubt uncomfortable. Her breath comes out in a growl. Still fighting. A minute ago, when I thought she was an alien, her feistiness infuriated me. Now it makes me like her even more._

_"Look, look, look!" I have to reassure her. My neck won't exactly help, but my eyes will. I turn on the flashlight again and shine it in my own eyes. "See? See? I'm just like you!" Will she stay now? She has to stay._

_"Let me see your neck."_

_She still isn't convinced. I don't blame her; no doubt I'd do the same thing if I were her. But I can't help her there. "Well…that won't exactly help anything. Aren't the eyes enough? You know I'm not one of them." Please believe me. Please understand I don't mean you any harm._

_"Why won't you show me your neck?"_

_I might as well tell her. Better she hear it from me, now, straight. "Because I have a scar there."_

_As she tries to escape me again, I hold her down. I'm not being cruel. I just don't ever want to be alone. "It's self-inflicted. I think I did a pretty good job, even though it _hurt._" I remember the pain. But I think losing perhaps the only other human alive would hurt worse. "I don't have all that pretty hair to cover my neck. The scar helps me blend in." Everything I say is true, yet it's overcompensation. I'm almost babbling now. I'm desperate for her to believe me._

_She twists under me again. "Get off me."_

_I do. Once I'm up and she stays lying on the ground, I offer my hand to her. She's probably more fragile than she acts. "Please don't run away. And…erm, I'd rather you didn't kick me again either."_

_She stares at me. I must seem so strange to her, like a wild man. A freak. She speaks again, her voice now softer. More unsure. "Who are you?"_

_"My name is Jared Howe." I grin as I say my name for the first time since I've been alone. I've almost forgotten it. "I haven't spoken to another human being in more than two years, so I'm sure I must seem…a little crazy to you." Crazy, desperate. Starved for love._

_It's not that. That's not why I kissed her. Although she seems like a nice girl. Of course, she is human, and that's enough, but I can see her now. She's pretty. She's obviously a survivor._

_I've kissed her, I've almost killed her, I've chased her down and tackled her, but I don't know who she is. "Please forgive that and tell me your name anyway."_

_She continues to stare at me. In wonder? Fear? Never mind. She answers. "Melanie."_

_"Melanie." I roll the name in my mouth. Savor it. "I can't tell you how delighted I am to meet you." I bend down toward her, my hand still extended._

_Very slowly she reaches up and grasps my hand. I pull her effortlessly to her feet and don't let go of her once she's standing. I don't think I can._

_"What now?" she asks, still cautious. Edgy._

_"Well, we can't stay here long. Will you come back with me to the house? I left my bag. You beat me to the fridge."_

_She shakes her head, and I realize how much I've scared her. She can hardly move. "Will you wait for me here, then? I'll be very quick. Let me get us some more food." Judging by the size of her bag, she took about a week's worth of food, but I know I can carry far more._

_"Us?" She seems confused by this._

_I smile again. I can't stop smiling. This girl has given me more happiness in five minutes than I've had in the two years since I lost my family. "Do you really think I'm going to let you disappear? I'll follow you even if you tell me not to."_

_She hesitates still. "I…I don't have time. I have so far to go and…Jamie is waiting."_

_Jamie?_

_"You're not alone." I had assumed she was. If she already has someone with her, looking out for her, then she doesn't need me. Never mind that I need her. I'm not…jealous exactly, but I do feel a sense of disappointment._

_"My brother. He's just nine, and he's so frightened when I'm away."_

_Oh. Her brother. Her kid brother. Not someone who looks out for her, but someone whom _she_ looks after. I can't imagine looking after a nine-year-old in this world, someone who can barely sit still for an hour, someone who doesn't know how to be quiet or careful. I can barely take care of myself._

_Her motherly concern for this boy is very apparent in her voice. "It will take me half the night to get back to him. He won't know if I've been caught. He's so hungry." Right on cue, I hear her stomach gurgle faintly. I realize how hungry she must be, how long she and the boy, Jamie, have gone without food._

_"Will it help if I give you a ride?"_

_"A ride?" she inquires._

_Now I know what to do. How to keep her with me. "I'll make you a deal. You wait here while I gather more food, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go in my jeep. It's faster than running. Even faster than _you_ running." I still haven't entirely caught my breath from chasing her._

_"You have a car?"_

_"Of course. Do you think I _walked_ out here?" Her forehead wrinkles as she mulls it over._

_I'll take that as a yes._

_"We'll be back to your brother in no time. Don't move from this spot, okay?" I couldn't stand being alone anymore. If she left…I don't know what I'd do._

_She nods. My heart soars. She wants to stay. She—Melanie—wants to stay with me. I can feel the smile growing on my face again. "And eat something, please. I don't want your stomach to give us away."_

_Before I leave her, I want to do something. Again. Not in a moment of thoughtless passion, but in one of reassurance. "Please don't kick me."_

_I bend my head toward her, holding her face softly. As our lips touch again, she reacts very differently. Her breathing hitches in her throat, and her hands reach up to touch my face._

_I've never felt this before._

_Her hands wander to my neck, clasp together in the back. I don't have time to remember why she shouldn't before she screams. I know what she felt: a rigid line of healed tissue on the base of my neck. An imitation of what I would have if I was a parasite._

_But it's scared her. Melanie. This last human girl. My own miracle._

_"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I unwind her arms from around my neck, pull her close to me. "I'm sorry."_

_As enamored as I am with this fellow human survivor, I realize how young she is. Delicate and anxious and petrified. I have to be careful._

_As I hold her, as her breathing slows to normal and she allows me to return to the house, I promise myself that I will never let Melanie go. She is my miracle, my living hope._

My love.

I was startled awake. Jamie was shaking me, whispering my name. "Your turn for watch."

I rose from my slumped position against the tree. I ruffled Jamie's shaggy hair absentmindedly, switching places with him.

My dream—my memory—always started out as my worst nightmare: I'd been caught, spotted by a body snatcher, and I would have to commit murder to save myself. Then my nightmare turned into bliss: I'd found hope again. Melanie. Jamie.

Now I was awake, and my worst nightmare had taken a different shape.

Melanie was gone.

She had been caught. Turned into one of them. A parasite.

She'd gone into enemy territory, trying to do something noble. Trying to find more of us. I waited for her, helpless, outside the city. I waited a whole week. Seven days, and she didn't come back.

I promised myself I'd never lose her. Never let her go.

But I did.


	2. Consolation Prize

**Hello again!**

**This is chapter two, straight from my own imagination. I had written half of what will now be chapter three before I realized there was a significant gap between Melanie's disappearance and Jared and Jamie getting to the caves. So here's a little glimpse of that!**

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><p>I had to finish what Melanie started.<p>

I couldn't let her last efforts be a waste, so I was going into the city myself. With Jamie. To find Sharon.

It was past midnight. We were bundled up in nondescript coats, all our possessions on our backs. The Jeep was hidden beyond the park. Our hoods were up, covering our necks and obscuring our eyes.

I took the kid into enemy territory.

Melanie had told me the address; the old apartment building was now condemned. We made extra sure no parasite saw us slip inside.

First we went upstairs. To the fifth floor. Where Melanie would have left a note for us if she didn't return. Inside the fifth door in the fifth hallway, I found a scrap of newsprint. A broken pencil lay beside it.

_Not fast enough Love you love Jamie don't go home._

I sank to my knees, holding her last message. Footsteps surrounded this paper, even covered it. I supposed the Seekers hadn't thought it important.

But it was everything to me. Everything in exactly the wrong way.

It was the final proof, confirmation of the terrible truth that Melanie had been captured.

Jamie made a choked sound in his throat. Still on my knees, I leaned over to hug him around the waist, muttering meaningless comfort: "It's okay. It's okay."

It was not okay.

But we hadn't accomplished our mission yet. So we went back downstairs and descended another level into the basement. I found the secret catch under the door hinge Melanie had described to me, and a tile in the floor slid away to reveal a room below the basement. I dropped down first, then helped guide Jamie after me.

A spotlight snapped on, illuminating our pale faces, our reflection-less eyes. I held Jamie defensively against me as two figures, only shadows behind the huge, rigged-up floodlight, stepped toward us.

"I told you. I _told_ you they were looking here again." The voice was low and rough, but it definitely belonged to a female. An older female, probably.

I fumbled in my pocket for the flashlight that I always kept there, and aimed it beyond the spotlight. Two faces, shadowy and obscure, recoiled from the light, but I'd seen their eyes. They were human.

"Take care of them. They're Seekers." That voice certainly belonged to a woman, a younger one. Two women. Could they have been Melanie's quarry?

"No, no, don't you see?" I exclaimed quickly. "I'm human too." I lowered my hood, looking straight into the light.

There was a rustling, and the spotlight's powerful beam dimmed some. I blinked the spots away from my eyes, exhaling in relief that they had believed me.

Then one of the figures stepped forward. She was holding something long and thin out toward me. It gleamed faintly in the pool of light.

A sword!

I jumped back, flattening myself against the wall. Jamie clung to me, speechless with fear.

"Who are you?" the woman barked. "Why did you come here?"

"L—looking for you!" I huffed, a little breathless myself. My voice came out a little higher than usual. I hadn't been this scared since…since…since my family had died, probably. I was helpless, being threatened point-blank with a deadly weapon. And I had a kid relying on me. "Listen, Melanie Stryder—you know who she is, right?

Saying her name sent a wave of pain through my chest

"I know—I _knew_ her. She told me about you. You're her cousin; you're Sharon, aren't you?" I addressed the younger speaker, the one further back. "And you're Melanie's aunt. Maggie."

"It's a trap," Sharon hissed. I knew it was really them; they'd both flinched when I'd said their names. "It's got to be a trap."

I understood how they felt. I knew how hard it was to trust anyone's good intentions. Everyone was an enemy, a traitor.

"No, really!" I reached behind me, fumbling into my backpack. "Look—" I pulled out Mel's photo album. "Jeb left us lines. Yes, Jeb! Your brother! He left us clues to a safe place."

Maggie didn't budge. The sword stayed pointed at my chest.

"Aunt Maggie!" Jamie pushed his way forward. "Please believe him. Melanie came to look for you. She—" He faltered. "She got caught."

"Jamie," Maggie breathed. "Little Jamie."

"Yes, it's me! She was trying to help you."

"She knew about this place, and she got caught?" Sharon said in a hard voice behind Maggie. "We need to get out of here."

"That's true," Maggie answered her. "But first we have to take care of...whatever your name is." She malevolently directed these words at me.

"I'm Jared," I said impatiently. "Look, we can go look for Jeb together, but we have to figure out these lines."

"Lines?" Maggie said, her hostile voice now containing a tiny note of curious interest. "Let me see them."

"Put the sword down and I will," I countered. This treatment, this onslaught of hostility and enmity from fellow humans was entirely unexpected. Why were they so unfriendly?

Maggie slowly lowered her weapon, still glaring at me vengefully. I had a _sneaking_ suspicion that we weren't going to be the best of friends. "Give that here."

As I held the album out to her, something fell from its pages. I picked the picture up and examined it briefly as Maggie grabbed the book from me. _Stryder Ranch, 1904..._

Maggie and Sharon discussed the strange lines in low voices, not bothering to include us.

Jamie shot me a look, one that clearly said: _Why did we come to find them again?_

I shrugged ruefully. They were a consolation prize, I supposed, more humans in exchange for the loss of Melanie.

I didn't feel particularly gratified.

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><p><strong>So that part was fun. Short, I know. But still pretty fun! As I said before, I've already written part of the next chapter, so it should be up in no time! Tune back in soon!<strong>

**By the way, thanks for taking the time to read my story! Well, technically speaking, it isn't even ****_my_**** story. Forget the universe and characters, I can't even make up my own ****_plot! _****Oh, well. Better not get too down on myself.**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	3. The Murderer

**Whoops. That took longer than expected. I never got around to uploading this chapter... Oh, well, it's here now, and I'm actually pretty pleased with it. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>"Wake up, Jared."<p>

I blinked sleepily. That was Jamie's voice. I'd only just dozed off; what did he want?

"What, kid?"

"Get up. Please?"

He sounded alert. He probably hadn't gone to sleep at all. He sounded...apprehensive.

Why did he sound that way? He had no reason to be scared anymore. We were safe.

We lived with Jeb now. With him and the other thirty-two humans here, including Sharon and Maggie. There was plenty of food, and we could sleep the whole night without keeping vigil for body snatchers. In this fearful new world, it was the best we could ask for.

Except...it was just Jamie and me.

While we didn't have much cause to be _happy_, we at least were able to feel safe. So what was bothering Jamie now?

"Come _on_, Jared. Someone's outside."

Fear clenched my stomach. _Someone's outside._ We never ventured outside our sanctuary of caves unless we had business with the parasites. If someone was outside now, it wasn't one of us. If it wasn't one of us...it had to be one of them.

I sprang off the mattress, meeting Jamie's fearful eyes, exchanging an uneasy look with Wes, standing at our door, who must've brought the news.

Wes, nearly ten years younger than me, elaborated, his voice conveying trepidation, but also a bit of reckless excitement. "Jeb saw something moving in the desert yesterday. Thought it was just an animal. But this afternoon he saw it again, closer. Now he thinks it's someone following the lines."

Someone was following lines like we had to get here. I knew Jeb had left similar instructions with others. If anyone with directions here was caught...that could be dangerous.

Wes added, "It's a woman, a young woman."

My stomach dropped. No. Surely not. _Don't let her have followed. Don't let this thing torture me any more._ I couldn't handle it.

Jamie looked up at me, his brown eyes hopeful. "Do you think it's—"

"No," I cut him off before he could say it. "She didn't know."

"I just wanted to tell you because...Jeb went out to see about it," Wes said. "We're getting ready to roll if we have to."

My mouth was dry. This couldn't be happening. If the person outside was...

She would be a parasite, and she would be dangerous. And she would hurt me.

But surely it wasn't her. It couldn't be. And if it was, I wasn't going to be the one to deal with it. I asked Wes, "What do I need to do?"

"If you wanna help Doc, he's got some stuff to pack up. We haven't got much else in terms of supplies."

"Jamie," I instructed. "C'mon." If there was a crisis, I wanted to keep him close.

We didn't get any sleep that night. Packing everything we needed for a new hiding place only took a few hours, but no one wanted to rest when Jeb had gone out, defenseless, to meet a possible threat.

Most everyone congregated in the dining hall. Lucina passed out rolls. I chewed on mine distractedly while Jamie leaned his head on my shoulder. As he drifted off, he got heavier and heavier. Beside him, Lucina's boys were slumped over the table, Isaiah snoring quietly, Freedom sucking his thumb.

Just before dawn, Jeb came back, unscathed. Human. Safe.

Everyone swarmed around him, pelting him with questions. Who was it? _What_ was it? Had it died? Was it alone? Were we in danger?

"Calm down, people. Everything's _fine._ There's no danger." He searched the crowd, finally finding me. I'd hung back from the onslaught; I didn't _want_ to know. His eyes were tight...anxious.

"What'd you do with it?" Heath demanded.

"I have to go back out," Jeb said, looking away from me. "Any volunteers want to come with me?"

I remained silent. I did _not_ want to go. I was afraid of what I'd find.

A group of eight formed to accompany Jeb. Not surprisingly, most of them were the same ones who volunteered for raids. I received a few odd looks from them when I stayed in my seat.

Trudy and Geoffrey were going together; they were _always_ together. Brandt and Aaron, Andy, Maggie for some reason, and both the O'Sheas, Kyle and Ian.

Ian was always so level-headed. I admired the calm, cool contrast he presented for his hot-headed brother. He was the negotiator, the deducer, and he wasn't a bad fighter either.

Kyle. He'd lost his partner too. Maybe that was why he was so angry. He was angry all the time. He acted like I felt. I supposed I was just better at hiding it.

Brandt and Aaron had known each other for a long time; they seemed like another pair of brothers. On the outside, they'd worked together to stay hidden, saving each other's lives in turn.

Andy was younger than me. He would still be in college, he'd told me, had the invasion not forced him to flee. His wholehearted devotion to his partner, Paige, rather depressed me, for obvious reasons, but he was a good guy. Funny. He would feign a swaggering, cocky nature that would lower to reveal an extremely humble but determined young man.

And Maggie was...Maggie. Suspicious. Irritable. Caustic.

As they left, I carried Jamie back to our room. He needed a few more hours of rest. I tried to sleep as well, but...I had other things on my mind.

When Jamie woke up, he was his normal self. He'd dismissed any notion of...our knowing the trespasser when I'd denied it to him. He wasn't worried, even when I told him Jeb had gone back out. He just shrugged and asked when breakfast was. After he ate, he sped on to Sharon's class without a care in the world.

I had to work. Today it was my turn to water the cornfield, though the job wasn't nearly taxing enough to keep my mind off the guys outside. However, I only had to endure half a day of preoccupation, because after lunch _everyone_ stopped working.

Jeb was back. The procession he'd taken with him at first light filed into the main plaza ahead of him. Kyle was first, followed closely by Brandt and Aaron. They were whispering furtively to one another, all wearing angry expressions.

I didn't rush forward to ask them what they'd found in the desert, or what they'd done with it. It was better I didn't know.

Maggie came inside next, her hand clenched around the crowbar so tightly her knuckles were white. "Get out of here," she hissed at me. I returned her furious glare. Our journey here together hadn't warmed me to her any more, and I supposed the feeling was mutual.

But why did she want me to leave?

Andy, Trudy, Geoffrey. They avoided my eyes as they entered the plaza and melted into the crowd. Ian walked in last. He found me in the sea of curious faces, shooting me a sympathetic look.

Someone across the plaza suddenly exclaimed, "He did _what?!_"

"That's right." That was Kyle, sounding even angrier than usual. Apparently Jeb had done something _again_ to infuriate everyone. A disgruntled babble spread through the crowd, as the news passed from mouth to ear. I was about to demand some answers, some explanations from them, when Jeb walked into the cave. Behind him…

Behind him was someone I never thought I'd see again.

Melanie.

My feet carried me forward, toward the woman I loved so fiercely, before I could think, process what her reappearance meant. As soon as I could do that, I jerked myself to a halt, my hands now curling into fists.

As Melanie stepped into the cavern, she lifted her face to the ceiling, taking in the scale of the place. Her eyes…her eyes sent beams of silver shooting onto the walls.

That wasn't Melanie.

She was dead; she'd been dead for half a year now, but her body was coming back to mock me. Mock my failure. Mock Jamie's grief. _My_ grief.

Now that the murderer was here, standing in front of me, my hatred for it grew. Grew so powerful that it choked me. In that moment, I hated that body. I wanted it gone. Even more than when I'd wanted to kill it the night we met. Because now I knew the person who had been inside. And _she_ was gone.

Then it saw me.

Its eyes, shining in the light, met mine and widened in shock. I supposed it hadn't expected to see me here.

"Jared!"

It was coming toward me, staggering with exhaustion, but running eagerly for me.

Disgust rose like bile in my throat. It had the gall to come here and act like Melanie. Like it was deserving of the love I had for her. Like it _was_ her.

Before it could reach me, touch me, I lashed out, backhanding it, hard. I never would have done that to Melanie. Ever. But I knew she was gone. That thing, that monster, deserved to be hit. I hated it.

It fell violently to the floor, hitting the stone hard and sprawling out at my feet. I stepped toward it. I could feel my hate and anger twisting my face into a snarl. It watched me get closer, seeming enraptured by my face. It was very unnerving. I wanted it to stop; _I_ wanted to stop it, to keep it from looking at me with those familiar expressions.

Jeb stepped in front of me. He didn't look excited or angry or worried. He met my eyes, staring me down coolly. Sending a message. _Leave it alone._

I gave up the confrontation; arguing with Jeb was pointless. Besides, I wasn't sure what I would have done to it. Yes, it had killed Melanie, but could I really kill her body? Silence it? Forcibly take the life from it once and for all?

No. I didn't think I could.

I dropped my face to the ground, unwilling to meet the stares of all the humans in the cavern. They were muttering again; they'd probably wanted me to kill it right then and there. Jeb helped the parasite to its feet courteously, kindly—acting like it was human. I gritted my teeth, struggling against my anger. Why had he brought it here at all? He knew how it would hurt me. What if Jamie saw it?

Then Doc appeared. "Okay, okay, I'm here. What have we got?"

No.

Jeb had brought Melanie's body for Doc. To mutilate her neck, trying to dig the centipede out while the centipede fought back in the only way it knew how. I'd buried the bodies of Doc's victims often enough. It was gruesome. I couldn't let them do this. Not to Melanie.

Maggie was speaking. Explaining how Melanie's body got here. I heard her say, carelessly, "Used to be our niece Melanie."

Why did she have to be so callous about it? Sharon, too. Sharon, even though she had found hope and love in these caves—the two things I'd never have again—was still just as hard as her mother.

Doc reached for Melanie's body with a morbidly curious expression. The thing inside Melanie shrank back, like it knew what Doc was going to do. He tried to reassure her: "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

As if.

He examined her, turning her head to see the…the pink line on her neck.

What I pretended to have, what _Melanie_ had not had, this mark of the parasites, was on this _thing._ In that instant, I hated the parasite all over again. Doc, too, for exposing the scar.

Doc was voicing his evaluation of her health. Something about dehydration. I only clearly heard his last three words: "Let's get started."

The centipede didn't move. Perhaps it was as shocked as I was. How could Jeb do this to me?

Doc motioned Kyle and Ian forward to carry it, since it obviously wouldn't go on its own, but I finally found my voice. "No."

Everyone looked at me again, accusingly. Doc blinked once, confused. "Jared? Is there a problem?"

_"Yes."_ Couldn't they see how this made me feel? Because this was Melanie's body, I hated the parasite inside it, but couldn't see any part of her get hurt. I was…_afraid_ for the alien. And I hated that.

"And it is?"

"I'll _tell_ you the problem, Doc. What's the difference between letting you have it or Jeb putting a bullet through its head?" Not that I wanted either to happen. But if I got a choice…

I continued speaking, cutting off Doc's bemused reply. "The difference is, if Jeb kills it, at least it dies cleanly."

Now Doc had gained some of his wits back. "Jared, we learn so much each time. Maybe this will be the time…" While he was trying to placate me, his tone was also uncertain. I realized he was trying to convince himself as well as me.

I snorted. "I don't see much progress being made, Doc." These were hurtful words and I knew it. Doc beat himself up every time he ended a human life. But if he had no idea how to get the parasite out, what was the point of letting Melanie's body be experimented on that way?

Sharon obviously wasn't thinking the same thing. "There's no point in wasting an opportunity. We all realize this is hard for you, Jared—"

Did they? I wanted to challenge her, dare her to put herself in my shoes. Part of me, though, hypothesized that Sharon would make the same decision about a parasite if it was her cousin, her mother, or her own partner.

She was still talking, rationalizing. "…it's not your decision to make. We have to consider what's best for the majority."

I glared at her, almost as angry with her now as I was with the parasite in Mel's body. Why couldn't she understand? _"No,"_ I repeated, my tone hopefully sounding emphatic and final.

Sharon jabbed her finger at my chest. "Stop being so _selfish._ Think about what Melanie would want. Would she want you to keep her body around?"

"She wouldn't want her body _hacked up,_" I spat. In the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. Kyle and Ian were stepping toward me again, this time looking ready for a fight. I shifted so I was between Melanie's body and the two big men. "Don't touch her!" I shouted.

More movement, this time from behind me. I turned just in time to see the worm in Melanie's body fall over. It must have fainted from exhaustion, pain, fear, something. Its eyes were still open, though. They moved rapidly, searching for something.

"Jamie," it breathed. "Jamie."

It sickened me, the way it said the kid's name. Like it knew him. Like it _cared_ about him. Jeb answered, his voice husky. "The kid is fine. Jared brought him here."

Why did he do that? Why did he tell it about Jamie? Why did it deserve to know?

It looked at me again, only half-conscious, its eyes barely focusing. "Thank you," it whispered before blacking out.

I turned back to look at Sharon, Ian, and Kyle, sending them a silent message, the way Jeb had to me earlier. Thankfully, I heard Jeb slap his rifle behind me and knew he was on my side.

Sharon made a disgusted noise and stalked away. Doc followed after her, looking back at me confusedly. After a second, Kyle walked away too, shadowed by his brother.

"Everybody get on outta here now," Jeb ordered, not harshly, but with executive power. The people left in the main plaza slowly trudged out, glancing back at us with murderous stares.

I stared down at Melanie's body, at its dirty clothes, its face covered in sweat and dust. A bruise was beginning to form on her cheek. Was it the side I'd hit? I couldn't afford to think about that. If I did, I would begin to feel bad about it.

When the plaza was cleared, Jeb stepped closer to me. "Better hide her somewhere outta the way."

_Her?_

I began to protest, but he held up his hand again—the one with the gun. "You made this mess, now you have take care of it."

I groaned quietly, looking down at Melanie's body again. It was hard to be disgusted by it, now that its eyes were closed…

No. That wasn't Melanie. It was the enemy. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to hurt her. I didn't want anyone else to hurt her, either. How paradoxical.

I _had_ brought this on myself. I sighed. "Where?"

Jeb thought for a minute. "How about the storage hall?"

My forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure that's…safe?" The storage hall was not a hundred yards from the caves' entrance. If there was one thing I was sure of concerning this parasite, I knew it could not be allowed to find the way out. It would destroy us.

"Sometimes the best hiding place is in plain sight."

I considered this, weighing my options. The ceiling in that part of the caves was solid, no cracks or holes. Aside from the tunnel that led outside, there was just the one corridor. I could catch it if it tried to run away.

And it was one place in the caves no one visited regularly, especially now that there were almost no supplies. No one would come looking down there unless they were looking for _it._ And I could handle them if they came.

I nodded, and Jeb grunted assent. "Good. I'll bring some food down later. Don't worry, I'll be subtle about it."

"Where are you going now?" I asked him, bending down over the parasite. I was finding _touching_ it…difficult.

"To the game room. Everyone needs to know the deal with her."

"Which is?" I demanded. The last time I'd looked, no one had any idea what to do with Melanie's body.

Jeb winked. "I'll figure something out. Something that'll make 'em leave you alone."

And he left me to carry my dead—but not dead—lover to a prison cell.

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><p><strong>Okay, there it is. Actually, when I wrote this, Jared actually kind of scared me. He's just so intensely hateful! I don't even know if I did him justice.<strong>

**Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a few weeks, but no promises!**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	4. Responsibility

**Hello!**

**I like how the chapters keep getting longer.**

**Chapter four, obviously. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>I carried Melanie's body down the hallways to the storage corridor, treading carefully on the uneven floor. As I cradled her in my arms, I couldn't help studying her. Her hair was much shorter; Melanie liked her hair long. Her nails were stubby—Melanie had hated biting her nails. The muscles that had been well-toned from constantly running and working had softened some. She'd been living quite a different life.<p>

Her presence brought back so many memories…memories of bliss and happiness, now turned bitter and painful. Because she _wasn't_ Melanie.

Thankfully, I met no one on my way. Jeb must have summoned everyone to the dark sulfurous game room.

Once I reached the supply corridor, I eased Mel's body into the roundish hole usually used for storing boxes and bags of food. It fit, although I didn't think it would be very comfortable. But it was most important that it stay confined and out of sight.

I sat next to it, in almost complete darkness. I kept my face turned away, not wanting to even try to look at it. It had killed Melanie. It was the reason Jamie and I had suffered, been so unhappy, ever since we arrived here. The news that over thirty human beings were still alive hadn't fazed me at all because the one human I wanted was gone. Now she was back, inhabited by a different awareness. One who wanted to kill me. Not only kill me, but torture me with my leftover emotions for this body. Run razor blades over the pain that was still fresh.

What was I _thinking?_

Why couldn't I allow myself to let Melanie go? It was like because her body was here, I was expecting her to wake up and be herself again. Rationally, I knew that wouldn't happen. But with her body so close, so alive, I couldn't bring myself to be the final end of it.

On the other hand, if we let it live, surely it would find its way out sooner or later. And that _could not_ happen. What good would it do to let it rot away in here, eating our food, stealing my time and attention? Jamie needed me more than this _thing._

Jeb interrupted my internal argument, bringing me food for two and a lantern. "Give this to her when she wakes up."

"_Her?"_ I hissed, infuriated at Jeb's casual use of the feminine—the _human_—pronoun.

"You know what I mean."

I looked back at Melanie's body. It was still sleeping uneasily, its stomach gurgling quietly. Like the night I found Melanie.

"Okay. Hey—don't let Jamie know."

The old man looked uneasy. "I can't promise you that, kid. Word travels pretty quickly in here. Stay alert," he told me as a parting.

Duh.

Not long after—long enough for me to eat, but not long enough for me to come to any conclusions—the parasite woke up. It shifted slightly, but didn't make any sound. Didn't open its eyes. Was it pretending to still be asleep? Preparing to make a run for it?

I decided to make the first move, let it know I was here. If it ran, I'd have no choice but to kill it. If it stayed put…I'd be able to maintain this uncomfortable situation a while longer. Great.

I slid the tray into the opening, letting it grate loudly along the floor. The parasite came to life very suddenly, reacting in fear. It propelled itself away from the opening, covering its face. A small shriek came from her lips—so like the one Melanie had made when I'd seen her for the first time.

I had to stop making these comparisons. This thing wasn't Melanie, nor did it deserve to be thought of as Melanie. My hate for the parasite returned as I watched it, and I felt _my_ face contort with anger.

It remained cowered against the back wall until it saw what I was giving it. Then it lunged forward, grabbing the bottle of water from the plastic tray. So eager. It acted just like a starved human being would have, gulping the water down with gusto, like it had never drunk before.

But it wasn't human. It didn't deserve this kindness.

Disgusted by its ardent hunger, I turned away while it drank and ate. When it was finished, I heard the scrape of the plastic against the ground as it pushed the tray back toward me.

I couldn't bring myself to look at it as I reached back in the hole. It wasn't sleeping anymore, or hiding its face in fear. If I looked into its eyes…would I feel sympathy for it? Would I see Mel instead of a monster?

"Thank you," it whispered to me. Trying to gain my trust? Win my mind over?

I didn't grace it with an answer.

It sat silently for a while; I couldn't see much else of it, turned half away from the hole. I tried to think very little about what I was doing; if I did, I might come to my senses and end this misery. It _was_ misery. Rationally, stopping this situation would stop the pain. I just wasn't sure if I wanted to.

I fell back on old memories of better times. I immersed myself in them. Living with my family as a child. My brothers. Helping my father build a safe haven from alien invaders that were then a joke between us.

Normally these memories were so excruciating I purposefully shunned them. However, the present was much more painful now.

I skimmed through memories of Melanie. Finding her. Meeting Jamie. Living with them. Loving her…

Gradually the parasite settled into a more horizontal position, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. Its feet stuck out of the hole. I wanted to shove them back in, to keep any part of it from my sight, but I reminded myself I was trying to ignore it.

At least it seemed to accept that it wasn't going anywhere. Or maybe it was just biding its time.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor ahead. More than one pair. Purposeful. Angry. I knew at once it wasn't Jeb.

They were coming to find me. And Melanie. Somebody had not been pleased with whatever Jeb had told them. They were coming to take matters into their own hands. And I knew what that meant.

I leapt to my feet. I didn't feel ready to defend this parasite from the death whoever was coming would bring. Somewhere inside, I wondered if they were doing the right thing.

There were three of them. Kyle, Ian, and Brandt.

The three best soccer players in the caves, also the best fighters. The most dependable on raids.

"Ah. Here you are," Kyle boomed. He sounded angrier than usual. Livid.

I clenched my fists.

"We're not going to allow this, Jared," Ian said. At least he was trying to reason with me. I wasn't going to give in, though. "We've all lost somebody—heck, we've all lost everybody. But this is ridiculous."

How was it ridiculous? I simply didn't want the body of the girl I loved to be mangled and tortured. Yes, it was complicated; yes, both decisions were painful. But Mel's body didn't deserve to be hacked up—or beaten to a pulp. Not by them.

"If you won't let Doc have it, then it's got to die," Kyle continued.

"You can't keep it prisoner here." That was Ian. The brothers were speaking in tandem, in complete agreement with each other—something that almost never happened. "Eventually it will escape and we'll all be exposed."

Then why did he think I was down here?! Why couldn't they leave me alone, give me time to sort things out? All I knew was I wasn't ready to let Mel go. Not completely.

I thought of her body in the hole. What was the parasite thinking? Surely it knew a fight was coming. Would it try to escape in the confusion? I stepped directly in front of the opening, blocking both parties from converging.

"Don't make this difficult, Jared," Brandt pressed. "It has to be done."

"We don't want to hurt you, Jared. We're all brothers here. But we will if you make us." Kyle._ "Move aside."_

They were trying to force my hand, to make me choose them over Melanie. Melanie's body. Make me realize how stupid the whole thing was. But as I stood between them and that hole, I realized that they had forced my hand in the opposite direction. However irrationally, however twisted the situation, I realized that I was choosing—had already chosen—to protect Melanie. I would always choose Melanie.

So I would fight them.

Normally, in a fight, I would analyze my opponents' weaknesses and use them to my advantage. But there were three of them, and they easily compensated for each others' disadvantages. Kyle would seize the offensive opportunity to attack me, and Ian would cover for him defensively. And Brandt could kill the parasite easily while I was distracted.

We were doomed.

"Jared, please," Ian tried.

I didn't move. I knew it was a lost cause, but I wouldn't give Mel up. Not without a fight.

Like with the parasite earlier, I figured it was better to make the first move. I lunged forward, catching Kyle's stomach with my fist. He gasped and reeled back a step.

"No!" I froze at that familiar voice. There was a scuffling behind me as she—Melanie—_it_—climbed out of the hole. What was it doing? Didn't it realize they were here to kill it?

The three attackers halted in their tracks. They hadn't expected her to make an appearance voluntarily.

I didn't move my eyes from them. I knew, no matter how much she pleaded, they wouldn't show mercy. They didn't understand. I had to protect Melanie from them.

Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me, and then Melanie's body had forced itself in between Kyle and me. Her back was to me, her body pressing into me in a very familiar way. Protecting me, just like she always swore she would.

Kyle pushed her away, causing her to stumble backwards. Before she could fall, I grabbed her wrist, keeping her upright. If she ended up on the ground, they'd be on her in seconds…

The instant my skin touched hers, though, I was reawakened. This wasn't Melanie. It was a parasite, a puppet-master who controlled Melanie's thoughts and actions. Who had erased Melanie. Who was now trying to manipulate me with its body. Who had almost succeeded.

I shoved it away from me in disgust. "Get back in there!" I shouted at it. Just because I was protecting it for the time being didn't mean I had to be nice to it. Besides, if I raised my voice enough, perhaps Jeb would hear me. Perhaps he'd come and save us. Me.

The parasite didn't listen. It stepped back toward Kyle. Willingly walked toward the man with murder in his eyes. "I'm what you want. Leave him alone."

"Tricky bugger," Ian hissed, unsettled by its nerve.

It was playing games with me now. Dangerous games. Too dangerous simply to win my trust. Perhaps it didn't realize how serious they were, how deadly the situation was.

"I said get back in there."

It didn't look at me. "It's not your duty to protect me at your own expense." Instead, that was what _it_ was doing.

What was it thinking? It was like that first night with Melanie. I hadn't been able to make sense of that body snatcher's actions, and I'd quickly realized that her actions would make perfect sense if she'd been human. And she had been.

Now there was no denying it. Melanie wasn't there. The person standing in front of me was not human. And it was acting...strange. Obviously it was trying to beguile me, to soften me against its alien nature. I hated how it was using Mel. But I would still protect it. Because I was too shallow and selfish to let Melanie's body go.

I reached for it, trying to guide it back into the hole, away from the danger, but it dodged my hand. Ran toward the three murderers. Would it keep running?

Too late. Ian caught it, grabbed it by its arms. It struggled, and he held it more tightly. The picture of him forcibly restraining Melanie enraged me. "Get your hands off her!"

Ian pinned its arms behind its back, holding it while Kyle charged toward me. He and Brandt tried to restrain me, keep me from stopping them. I rammed my elbow into Kyle's stomach, the same spot where I'd punched him earlier. He sucked in a breath, loosening his grip for one second.

I was vaguely aware of Melanie's voice, so familiar and supplicating, begging with them. Of course they wouldn't listen.

I was fueled now, ready for a full-out fight. I twisted back around and met Kyle's face with my fist, hearing a satisfying _thwack._ When I pulled my hand back, there was moisture on my knuckles. Blood.

Hardly noticing this, Kyle growled and shoved me into Brandt. "Finish it, Ian!" he shouted.

Finish it.

"NO!" I cried desperately. He wouldn't. He couldn't do this to me.

I saw Ian seize Melanie's neck. Saw him lift her up. Heard her breath choke.

I disentangled myself from Brandt, only to be met with Kyle. I jabbed him in the side, but Brandt was there again, grabbing my right arm. They weren't going to let me get away. They were deliberately keeping me occupied. Because all the time I was fighting them, Ian kept squeezing the life out of Melanie.

She was going to die.

_Click, click._

The sound was unmistakable. Jeb had come, with his rifle. Just like I'd hoped. When he spoke, his voice was loud and authoritative. "Kyle, Ian, Brandt—back off!"

Kyle and Brandt had frozen, their arms outstretched, restraining me. Ian had frozen too—still strangling Melanie.

I had to save her. Unhindered by the others, I ducked out of our immobile standoff and lunged for Ian. My fist connected squarely with his jaw.

He yelped, releasing Melanie's body involuntarily, letting it fall to the floor, gasping for breath.

Fine. She was fine. She was alive.

I wanted to rush over, to pull her up, to make sure she was all right. I had to stop myself. To remind myself again that it wasn't _Melanie._

Jeb reprimanded the three would-be murderers sharply. "You're guests here, boys, and don't forget it. I told you not to go looking for the girl. She's my guest, too, for the moment, and I don't take kindly to any of my guests killing any of the others." Jeb seemed to be ignoring the fact that _she_ was not human.

"Jeb. Jeb, this is insane." Ian was nursing his jaw, which muffled his voice. I didn't think I'd drawn any blood on him, but I was glad my punch had hurt him. He'd tried to kill Mel. Not really Mel, but close enough.

Kyle, on the other hand, had blood streaming from his nose. Had I broken it? "What's your plan?" he inquired harshly. "We have a right to know. We have to decide whether this place is safe or if it's time to move on. So how long will you keep this thing as your pet? What will you do with it when you're finished playing God? All of us deserve to know the answers to these questions."

I turned to look at Jeb expectantly. Kyle was right, for once. We did need to know what was to be done with the parasite. And I trusted Jeb, if anyone, to make a reasonable decision.

But it seemed Jeb would disappoint me. "Don't have your answers, Kyle. It's not up to me."

What?

"Not up to you? Who then?" Kyle asked, his tone reflecting my shock. Was Jeb really foregoing this responsibility? This most important responsibility that I wanted resolved, over, done with?

"If you're thinking of putting it to a vote, that's already been done," Kyle continued. "Ian, Brandt, and I are the duly designated appointees of the result."

"It's not up for a vote. This is still my house."

"_Who then?"_ Kyle repeated, his voice getting louder again.

"It's Jared's decision."

"Jared?" Kyle echoed.

My mouth fell open as I stared at Jeb in disbelief. He wanted _me_ to take responsibility for it. He'd presented me with a complete catch-twenty-two. I knew I couldn't kill Melanie's body, even if it was possessed with a centipede. I could never make the conscious decision to end the life in that body. But if Jeb was leaving the fate of the parasite up to me, what would I do? If I couldn't make a decision about it, what was going to happen to it? Would I let it stay here indefinitely, as a prisoner? The agony of sitting next to the body of the girl I loved for just a few hours had been painful enough. This was going to destroy me.

I glared malevolently at the parasite whom I was now sure would ruin my life.

"That makes no sense!" Kyle protested. "He's more biased than anyone else! Why? How can he be rational about this?"

I couldn't. I already knew I couldn't. "Jeb, I don't…" I began, but Jeb cut me off. This time I didn't like the finality in his tone.

"She's your responsibility, Jared. I'll help you out, of course, if there's any more trouble like this, and with keeping track of her and all. But when it comes to making decisions, that's all yours."

I was numb. He couldn't be shoving this completely off on me. This was torture beyond any the aliens could have thought up on their own.

Kyle started to argue again, but Jeb shut him up with a wave of his hand. "Look at it this way, Kyle. If somebody found your Jodi on a raid and brought her back here, would you want me or Doc or a vote deciding what we did with her?"

Kyle's face took on a familiar expression—the one I'd seen in the mirror ever since Melanie was taken. "Jodi is dead," he snarled.

"Well, if her body wandered in here, it would still be up to you. Would you want it any other way? My house, my rules." Jeb used his trademark assertion, the one that was bound to win any argument. "No more discussion on this. No more votes." They'd apparently gone behind his back with the vote for the death penalty. "No more execution attempts. You three spread the word—this is how it works from now on. New rule."

"_Another_ one?" Ian whined.

Jeb didn't respond to that. "If, as unlikely as it may be, somehow this ever happens again, whoever the body belongs to makes the call." He motioned with the rifle. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you anywhere around this place again. You let everyone know that this corridor is off limits. No one's got any reason for being down here except Jared, and if I catch anyone skulking around, I'm asking questions second. You got that? Move. Now."

Jeb finished his lengthy dictum, sending Kyle, Brandt, and Ian away.

I couldn't feel any relief at their departure. I wasn't even sure if I was glad they'd failed. My feelings on Melanie's body were so messed up. I wanted it to go away, yet I didn't want it to die. I didn't want anything to do with it, but I didn't want anyone else near it.

I didn't want to look at the parasite now. Didn't want it to think I had any sympathy for it.

"Please don't put this on me, Jeb," I pleaded. "Kyle is right about one thing—I _can't_ make a rational decision."

To my dismay, Jeb was smiling. His severity was already gone, melted back into the affable, slightly eccentric old man he normally was. Why wasn't he taking this seriously?

"No one said you had to decide this second. She's not going anywhere. Not after all the trouble she went through to get here. You've got plenty of time to think it through."

Think what through? "There's nothing _to_ think through. Melanie _is_ dead. But…I can't—I can't—Jeb, I can't just…" My voice was breaking, wavering out of my control. Surely he understood. I'd known that body so intimately, loved the woman inside so passionately that I just couldn't…

Couldn't kill it.

I could be angry with it. Hate it, even. The first thing I'd done was raise a hand to it. But I couldn't kill Melanie.

"Don't think about it, then," Jeb replied. "Maybe you'll figure something out later. Give it some time."

How would things improve with time? There was no way this situation would change. Eventually I'd have to choose. And there was really only one choice.

"What are we going to _do_ with it? We can't keep watch on it around the clock."

"That's exactly what we're going to have to do for a while. Things will calm down. Even Kyle can't preserve a murderous rage for more than a few weeks."

"A few _weeks?_" I repeated in astonishment. "We can't afford to play guard down here for a few weeks." I couldn't, especially. I had a fourteen-year-old kid who looked to me like I was his father. I couldn't hope that _no one_ had told him where I was, what had happened. He had to know Mel's body was here, and that had to hurt him. He needed me. "We have other things—"

"I know, I know. I'll figure something out."

I threw out another argument, hoping Jeb would be convinced to make the decision for me. "And that's only half the problem. Where do we keep it? It's not like we have a cell block."

Jeb didn't see that as a problem, though. "You're not going to give us any trouble, now are you?" Not to me. To Mel. To it.

He was talking to it. Casually. Like it was human. "Jeb," I muttered.

"Oh, don't worry about her. First of all, we'll keep an eye on her. Second of all, she'd never be able to find her way out of here. She'd wander around lost until she ran into somebody." I did appreciate the way he'd implied that the exit was a long way from here. It showed that he hadn't completely turned in his sanity card and trusted this monster. "Which leads us to number three: she's not that stupid." He turned to the parasite, who stared back at him with a slightly distant look in its—Melanie's—eyes. "You're not going to go looking for Kyle or any of the rest of them, are you? I don't think any of them are very fond of you."

It didn't answer. Perhaps it wanted out so badly it _would_ go out looking.

"I wish you wouldn't talk to it like that," I said in a low voice. It irked me. There was no way I could treat this parasite, this worm, like a human. Because it was Mel; it had _killed_ Mel.

"I was raised in a politer time, kid. I can't help myself." He patted my arm gently. "Look, you've had a full night. Let me take the next watch here. Go get some sleep."

Was it night already? I didn't feel tired at all. Just drained. Emotionally drained. Mentally exhausted.

I looked into Melanie's silver eyes, feeling a fresh wave of hate for it. Jeb was right; I was ready to get away from it. "Whatever you want, Jeb." I trusted him to keep it safe, away from anyone who'd kill her. And from Jamie.

I tried once more to shrug off the weight that Jeb had forcibly placed on my shoulders. "And…I don't—I _won't_—accept responsibility for that thing. Kill it if you think it's best." I tried to sound like that would be okay. Maybe it would be if I wasn't the one to make the decision. I would have to harden myself. But I had already lost Melanie once; surely I could give up a twisted puppet of her.

The parasite flinched at that. It must have known that it was eventually going to die.

Giving it a parting scowl, I walked down the tunnel, away from Melanie, away from the ghosts of my happier past.

I made my way to my room, the tower-like cave I shared with Jamie. I could barely make him out in the starlight, but he was there, sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the mattress we shared. As I moved him over to one side, I could feel wetness on the pillow, close to where his eyes had been. He'd been crying.

He was also clutching something. Something hard and rectangular. I gently worked it free from his arms, feeling strange grooves in the smooth surface.

Of course. This was Mel's photo album. The one with the lines carved on the back, the one with the picture of the ranch in the desert. The one with Stryder family pictures in it.

I could picture the kid, having heard from some insensitive mouth about Mel's body, coming in here, staring at the pictures of his dead family for hours, silently mourning them, until the light grew too dim to see.

My throat grew thick. I felt my eyes fill, but I blinked the tears away fiercely. I had already mourned for Melanie once. No need to do it again.

I laid down on the mattress beside Jamie. It took me a long time to fall asleep.

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><p><strong>This part of the story is a DRAG. Both in the emotional content and in terms of length. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon, but...oh, boy. It gets even worse from here.<strong>

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	5. Stalemate

**Oh. My. Gosh. I am so glad I finally finished this. It was SO TEDIOUS. I set aside a rare weekend where I didn't have anything to do and got it all done. It was long and hard, but I survived!**

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><p>Morning light streamed through the openings in the lofty roof. I groaned and stretched, feeling that Jamie was no longer lying beside me.<p>

When I sat up, he was watching me. Sitting cross-legged at the foot of our bed, his shoulders tense…accusation in his eyes. I knew he knew, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. I'd pretend it was nothing.

"Morning, kid."

He didn't say anything.

"S'it breakfast time yet?"

He shrugged. Despite his efforts to remain nonchalant, stoic, I saw the reproach and the sadness in his eyes. He knew, and he was suffering almost as much as I was.

"Okay. I'll go see."

And I left him to his silence.

As I made my way to the dining hall, people stopped and stared. Turned and whispered to others. I could guess what they were thinking: Had I killed the parasite? If not, why was I keeping it alive? What was I up to?

I grabbed a roll at the counter, deliberately meeting all the furtive glances I was receiving. Brandt and Aaron, sitting with Andy and a few other guys, had harder expressions on their faces; glares almost. Brandt must've told them all that I'd defended the parasite. Fought for it.

I leaned against the counter as I ate, my jaw working hard to soften the rough, seedy wheat bread. I watched the entrance carefully, expecting Jamie to show up. He never missed a meal. But he didn't come.

He must've been more hurt than I thought.

A few minutes into my surveillance, just as I was swallowing the last of my roll, Kyle and Ian strode into the dining cavern. They were both sweaty, and their dark hair was streaked with dust. Light brown dust. Kyle held a pair of binoculars.

I knew at once where they'd been. Outside. Spying on parasites that had gotten dangerously close. Searching. And there was only one thing they'd be searching for.

When he saw me, Kyle's face hardened and he stopped walking. Ian, with an exasperated glance behind him, kept coming, toward the roll basket, toward me.

"You wanna come outside?" he asked me, grabbing a roll for himself and, noticing Kyle's expectant glare, one for his brother.

"Why?"

Ian's expression was serious. "Just…to come see the situation." His jaw was bruised, I noticed.

I was surprised he could approach me so easily, after what I'd done last night. But, I realized, I didn't want to be angry at him either. Kyle had said one true thing last night: We were all family here.

I tried to quash the vindictive pleasure I felt when I saw the evidence he bore of our fight. Ian was much nicer, more considerate than Kyle. He didn't deserve to be hit…as much. He'd still tried to kill Melanie. I couldn't completely overlook that.

But he wasn't eyeing me nastily like Kyle. As the two of us neared him again, Kyle handed the binoculars wordlessly to Ian, snatched a roll from him, and stalked out of the dining hall.

I snorted at his childish behavior but sobered quickly, turning to Ian for information.

He informed me of the state of affairs outside as we headed for the southern tunnels—we both knew going down through the main exit, where the parasite was being kept, was out of the question. "Someone must have been expecting it. One bugger drove by on the road this morning and got out for a little while, then it left and brought more back. They're branching out now in little parties."

Just as I thought. The parasite in Melanie's body was going to bring down a legion on us. Smother us. Smoke us out. Kill us all.

My mind was analyzing the situation, evaluating any advantages we might have. "Can we leave any false trails?"

"It drove a car on its first leg here. Must've run out of gas. Aaron and Andy filled it up and took it right back to the edge of the road. Hopefully they'll think it just wrecked and leave it alone."

"They won't do that," I told him. They weren't just looking for the _parasite._ "It must have told the other Seekers it was going to find humans. They won't stop looking until they've found _us._"

We'd reached the southern cave. It was empty; Doc must have been somewhere else. We crawled through the low, narrow tunnel in silence, both of us preoccupied with our worries. What would we find out there? Was venturing out of the caves even safe now? Would our intruder force us to uproot our lives and go somewhere else less secure?

When we reached the outside, the sun was scorching hot even though it had only risen a little while ago. Ian and I made our way through the rocky formations, up to the top where we could see for miles.

Ian let me have the binoculars. I looked through them, quickly finding a group of people—parasites—clustered on the road. They'd parked their cars off the road and set up some type of camp. They were milling around casually, talking, looking at maps.

Their cars…most of them were nondescript, ordinary vehicles. But one stood out. A black and white one topped with lights.

Seekers.

As I watched, another car pulled up, black and white, and two more parasites got out.

"They're calling in Seekers," I told Ian, passing him the binoculars.

He watched the faraway scene briefly and remarked, "They haven't pulled out the big guns yet."

_"Yet,"_ I emphasized. The longer they looked and didn't find Melanie's body, they might guess it had found what it was looking for.

I didn't want to stick around to watch.

"I'll see you later," I muttered to Ian, sliding away from the rocky outcropping.

"You're not gonna stay?"

"No." I had the other half of the equation to worry about.

I reentered the caves, hearing voices as I reached the hospital. Doc was back, and Sharon was there too. When she saw me worm through the small opening, Sharon strode over to me. I could tell from her expression she still hadn't forgotten me disputing her yesterday.

"Where's Jamie?" she demanded.

I was caught off guard by this. "I don't…know?"

"He didn't come to school this morning." She glared at me as though it was my fault.

Perplexed, I ran my hand over the back of my neck, pondering where the kid would be. He'd been so quiet, so miserable this morning. He had doubtless found out about Mel, so I'd assumed he was mourning her in his way…

Oh, no.

Without another word to Sharon or Doc, I strode out of the hospital wing, up the south tunnel, desperate to prove myself wrong.

Jamie's silence this morning…he'd been sad, yes, and angry with me. Surely he hadn't been planning, plotting to…

I was practically running now, as I crossed the main plaza. Jeb wouldn't let him. He was a smart man; surely he wouldn't let Jamie get near the parasite. He had to know what it was planning: manipulation, infiltration, betrayal…

But as I rounded the corner to the storage hole, there were three figures in the lamplight. Jeb, propped against the wall lazily, the gun on his lap. The parasite, curled against the opposite wall. Sitting next to Jamie.

"What the _heck?_" I exclaimed, stopping in my tracks. The parasite and Jamie spun to face me, but Jeb remained relaxed. I directed my fury toward him. "Dang it, Jeb! We agreed not to—"

"Jeb didn't bring me here," Jamie interrupted, his high voice defiant. "But _you_ should have."

Jeb started to get to his feet slowly, lazily. The gun rolled off his knees onto the floor…right next to the parasite.

Panic consumed me then. How could he be so careless? The parasite could grab the gun and be the death of us all. My feet carried me forward and I snatched the rifle. "Are you trying to get us _killed?!_"

"Calm down, Jared," Jeb drawled, taking the gun from me. He still sounded unruffled, albeit a little frustrated. Although that seemed to be, for some strange reason, directed at _me._ "She wouldn't touch this thing if I left it down here alone with her all night. Can't you see that?" He held the gun toward it, and it shrank back, as if it was afraid of the weapon.

It was a good actor.

"She's no Seeker, this one," Jeb declared. He sounded sure of himself.

"Shut up, Jeb, just shut up!" It had Jeb fooled. Jeb, the one who saw the invasion before anyone else. Jeb, who had hiding places ready long before they were needed. He was the reason we were all still alive, but he was being suckered by this one parasite, the one that had such a strong connection to him. Why couldn't he see through it?

"Leave him alone! He didn't do anything wrong!" Jamie cried.

"You! You get out of here now, or so help me!"

The kid had already been talking to the parasite when I showed up. Talking with it. Building a _relationship_ with it. He didn't understand the farce, the motions it was going through to earn our trust. He was too taken in by the face, the voice, all the familiarities.

Sure enough, upon hearing my mandate, he planted himself where he was next to the parasite. Already taking its side.

My fists came up involuntarily, a response to my anger. Of course I couldn't hurt the kid, but I'd do what I had to in order to make him leave. I was so angry with the parasite, with Jeb, with myself, I couldn't help but vent it somehow. Jamie's irrational behavior wasn't helping either.

The parasite watched our confrontation mutely, a horrified expression on its face. Why would it be so unhappy? It had won this victory, the heart of this vital child; surely it would be rejoicing.

"You shouldn't have tried to keep this a secret from me," Jamie hissed, his anger showing. He was angry at _me_. Because of _it_. "And you shouldn't have hurt her." He pointed at Melanie, where I could see even in the lamplight, big bruises on her face and neck.

I was so beside myself, I actually spat on the floor. Jamie already thought of the parasite as a _her_. A human. "That's not Melanie. She's never coming back, Jamie." She was dead; I'd told him that straight off when she disappeared.

"That's her face," Jamie told me. So stubborn, which would have made me proud, except he was so wrong. "And her neck. Don't those bruises there _bother_ you?"

Yes. That was the problem. The bruises _were_ bothering me. And I knew they shouldn't.

I closed my eyes, trying to regain control of myself. "You will either leave right now, Jamie, and give me some space, or I will _make_ you leave. I am not bluffing. I can't deal with any more right now, okay? I'm at my limit. So can we _please_ have this conversation later?"

I opened my eyes, meeting Jamie's. He must have understood that this was hurting me. "Sorry," he said softly. Grudgingly. "I'll go. But I'm not promising that I won't come back."

Why would he want to come back? To bond more with the parasite? That he wanted to get to know Melanie's body snatcher filled me with fear. "I can't think about that now. Go. Please," I added at the end, to soften my order.

Jamie looked at the parasite. Curiosity, longing, and reluctance mixed into his expression. No fear. No anger.

When he walked away, I promised myself that that was the last time he'd see it. No matter how long I kept the parasite here, I wouldn't allow him anywhere near it again. He absolutely could not get latched on to this thing.

But I'd broken promises to myself before.

If I was going to keep Jamie away from Melanie's body, I'd have to stay down here with it. Jeb obviously couldn't be trusted with that.

"You too," I ordered Jeb.

"I don't think you've had a long enough break, to be honest. I'll keep an eye on—"

"Go." I cut him off before he could say _her_ again. Sure, Jeb would watch the parasite, but he had let Jamie see it. Talk to it. Earlier, I'd thought the kid needed me to be with him. But he needed me to keep this thing away from him more. Even if he didn't know it.

Jeb didn't argue. "Okay. Sure."

I had a question. I had to know this, especially after his lax behavior. "Jeb."

"Yeah?"

"If I asked you to shoot it now, would you do it?"

He didn't turn around. "I'd have to. I follow my own rules. So don't ask me unless you really mean it."

I couldn't mean it now. Not yet. So I let him go, let Melanie's body crawl back into the storage hole.

I sat down outside the hole, prepared for a long wait.

...

The day didn't disappoint.

The parasite and I sat in silence, by no means a companionable silence. The entire day, I wrestled back and forth with the wisdom of my options.

Should I kill the parasite?

Leaving it alive ad infinitum was stupid; I knew it wanted to escape. Jamie had already found it, connected with it, played right into its deceitful hands. If for no other reason, I should kill it for Jamie. That kid needed to understand how dangerous Mel's body was now.

But killing it…would be incredibly painful. Watching Melanie's body fall, blood pooling from a gunshot wound…Yes, it would be a gunshot wound, because there was no way Doc was getting near it with his scalpels and poison. But even just shooting the parasite...I couldn't comprehend the agony of that picture.

But having Melanie, who was not Melanie, be here next to me, was incredibly painful too. Sitting with it for hours, the being that had killed the woman I loved, was excruciating.

It was a stalemate. I suffered if it died, or if it lived. One option—the more proactive one—would win out eventually; I just didn't want to be the one to force it.

It must have been dinnertime when Jeb brought food for us. He gave me a tray, and set one inside the hole for the parasite.

"Thank you," it whispered.

"You're welcome," he answered.

Why did he talk to it that way? Why did he act so civil toward it? It didn't deserve politeness. The only reason _it_ was polite was to gain our trust. So why did Jeb play along with it?

I grunted softly, to express my annoyance to Jeb. He ignored me and left.

All day, I could hear the parasite moving around inside the hole. Trying to find a comfortable position. It never stayed still for more than a few minutes; the hole was just too small and round.

I didn't let myself feel sorry for it.

Jeb came back in the evening and offered to take it for a walk. To the latrine. It nodded enthusiastically at that, and suspicion flooded my mind. It had to have gone to the bathroom before; had it learned or guessed the way out? Jeb was so trusting of it, he might have just _told_ it where the exit was.

"I'll do it," I told him roughly. "Give me the gun." I didn't trust him or anyone else to keep it secure. I had to do everything myself.

Jeb sighed but gave his consent. "Go ahead."

I snatched the gun from him and walked quickly down the dark tunnel, not waiting for the parasite. I heard its soft, uncertain footsteps behind me, stumbling every so often on the bumpy floor. I even heard it gasp quietly and _thump_ to the ground. I stopped walking for a moment and waited for it to get on its feet. I didn't want it to be on its _own_ in this dark tunnel.

It footsteps got closer, and then I felt a light touch on my back. I twisted away from the touch in fear, though realizing quickly that the parasite had been feeling for the wall. That didn't make me feel any better.

"Sorry," it whispered to me.

The moon was out in the big room. I led it to the latrine, grateful that everyone seemed to have gone to bed.

When we reached the river room, it moved hesitantly toward the dark bathing cave. Taking its time.

"Move it," I told it sharply. If it was planning something…could I kill it?

Thankfully, I didn't have to answer that question. It returned quickly after that, and I led it back to the storage hole, even faster than before.

Jeb had left, come back with mats and pillows. Disgust rose in me as I realized he'd brought two. One for me and one for _it._ Like he expected me to sleep _beside_ it.

"Are you sleeping here tonight or am I?"

There was no question about that. "I am. And I only need one bedroll." It was _not_ sleeping on a mattress beside me. It didn't deserve that.

Seeing Jeb's incredulous expression, I retorted, "It's not one of us, Jeb. You left this on me, so butt out."

"It's not an animal, either, kid."

No. It was worse.

"And you wouldn't treat a dog this way."

I looked him straight in the eye. I wasn't budging on this matter.

"Never figured you for a cruel man," Jeb said quietly. Trying to provoke me into relenting.

Cruelty? This whole situation was cruel enough. The parasite's torture of me entitled me to a _little_ payback.

He touched its arm companionably as he walked away, carrying a bedroll and a pillow. "Sorry, honey."

"Cut that _out!_" I said harshly. This humane treatment had to stop.

Jeb had left me the gun this time, as an extra means of protecting the parasite. I laid my bedroll out beside it, between the gun and the hole. As I patted my pillow, I allowed myself a little more payback, plumping it ostentatiously so the parasite could see.

_Sweet dreams, backache,_ I thought, with a wave of satisfaction.

"You won't be able to sneak past me," I told it. Warning it. "If you try…I _will_ kill you."

I had the gun now, so I could probably keep it from escaping without killing it. But if it forced my hand, I would do what I had to. Never mind how it made me feel.

I laid down on the thin mat, staying as alert as possible in my exhaustion. Again, it took me a long time to fall asleep.

I dreamed of Melanie again. The night I found her.

I woke with my eyes stinging.

I sat down there for days. Four, at least. I had Jeb bring food for me and the parasite, leaving it at the end of the straight corridor so he couldn't talk to it anymore.

I took it to use the bathroom periodically, trusting my instincts to only leave at night, when no one else could see it.

Kyle came to see me every night. He was "just checking." I never let him get close; I never said a word to him.

The parasite was a surprisingly docile prisoner. It was quiet all the time; it never tried to leave the hole until I stood up, ready to take it to the latrine. Once, though, for some strange reason, it laughed at me as I ate Cheetos. That bugged me.

I gradually moved away from the hole. I hated being near the parasite. Every time I looked at it…it brought back memories. I kept my distance so as to not get soft. Every day the centipede did nothing chipped away at me, nagging me. It wasn't trying to escape. It wasn't doing _anything._

I pushed these thoughts away. It was biding its time. It was planning, strategizing, conspiring…

One night I was lying on the mat—that uncomfortable, thin mat—not quite asleep, when I heard footsteps. In one movement, I rolled over, grabbing the gun and aiming it at Kyle, like always.

"Easy. I come in peace."

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying," I called back to him. Kyle never came in peace.

"I just want to talk." Oh. It was Ian. "You're buried down here, missing all the important discussions. We miss your take on things."

"I'm _sure._" More like they missed arguing with me. I didn't relax my defensive stance as Ian came closer.

"Oh, put the gun down. If I was planning to fight you, I would have come with four guys this time."

I weighed this. Ian couldn't match me in a fight alone, especially since I had the gun. And he _would_ be one just to come and talk to me.

"How's your brother these days?" I asked him, sliding to sit down against the wall. I wondered if Kyle had stopped pouting. Whenever he came down to "just check," he'd just seemed angry. Like always.

"Still fuming about his nose. Oh, well—it's not the first time it's been broken. I'll tell him you were sorry," Ian offered.

"I'm not," I said sincerely.

"I know. No one is ever sorry for hitting Kyle."

I laughed. Ian had been the first one to punch his brother in the nose, back when they were teenagers.

He really didn't seem to be looking for a fight. He sat down facing me, crossing his legs comfortably.

"So what do you want, Ian? Not just an apology for Kyle, I imagine."

"Did Jeb tell you?"

I hadn't spoken to Jeb in days. "I don't know what you're talking about." Had something happened?

"They've given up the search. Even the Seekers."

Oh. The parasites outside, searching for the one I held captive. They'd given up? When I'd been out there, more Seekers were just arriving, as if the situation was becoming more serious.

Ian continued. "We've been keeping a close watch for some change, but they never seemed overly anxious. The search never strayed from the area where we abandoned the car, and for the past few days they were clearly looking for a body than a survivor."

This parasite must have been _really_ stupid. It had ventured out into the deadly desert without any backup, just searching on its own for humans to betray. Inefficient supplies, barely a formulated plan, just its memories—Melanie's memories.

"Then two nights ago we caught a lucky break. The search party left some trash in the open, and a pack of coyotes raided their base camp. One of them was coming back late and surprised the animals. The coyotes attacked and dragged the Seeker a good hundred yards into the desert before the rest of them heard its screams and came to the rescue. The other Seekers were armed, of course. They scared the coyotes off easily, and the victim wasn't seriously hurt, but the event seems to have answered any questions they might have had about what happened to our guest here."

They were right about that. If Melanie's body had stayed out in the desert for this amount of time, with no provisions, it would have been picked apart by scavengers, beyond recognition. Was it better that we'd found it?

"So they packed up and left. The Seekers gave up the search. All the volunteers went home. No one is looking for it."

We both glanced into the hole. Our shadows kept it in darkness, curled against the back wall. I couldn't tell if it was listening.

Ian went on, "I imagine it's been declared officially dead, if they keep track of things the way we used to. Jeb's been saying 'I told you so' to anyone who'll stand still long enough to hear it."

"Jeb needs to get a hold of himself," I muttered to myself. The old man had been way too reckless about this thing. He should have shot it when he first found it. I exhaled sharply and said louder, "All right, then. I guess that's the end of it." Strangely enough, one of our worries had resolved itself. The other parasites had surmised that no one could've survived for this long in the inhospitable desert and decided it had died. Now all _we_ had to do was decide if that should be true or not.

"That's what it looks like." Ian hesitated then. "Except…well, it's probably nothing at all."

Of course. Of course there was a catch. "Go on." I had to know everything.

"No one but Kyle thinks much of it, and you know how Kyle is. You've got the best instincts for this kind of thing. I wanted your opinion. That's why I'm here, taking my life into my hands to infiltrate enemy territory," Ian said, his voice becoming sarcastic and biting by the end. "You see, there's this one…a Seeker, no doubt about that—it packs a Glock."

That surprised me. Most parasites, even the Seekers, didn't carry weapons. There were, though, obviously a few exceptions.

"Kyle was the first to notice how this one stood out. It didn't seem important to the rest—certainly not part of the decision-making process. Oh, it had suggestions enough, from what we could see, but no one seemed to listen to it. Wish we could've heard what it was saying. Anyway, when they called off the search, this one wasn't happy with the decision. You know how the parasites are always so…very pleasant? This was weird—it's the closest I've ever seen them come to an argument. Not a real argument, because none of the others argued back, but the unhappy one sure looked like it was arguing with _them_."

No wonder Kyle had noticed this particular centipede. It was pugnacious—like him. He wasted all his energy picking fights, even though none of us cared enough to fight back. But I'd never seen a parasite like that.

"The core group of Seekers disregarded it," Ian said. "They're all gone now."

"But the unhappy one?" I pressed.

"It got in a car and drove halfway to Phoenix. Then it drove back to Tucson. Then it drove west again."

"Still searching." Perhaps that one knew something the others didn't.

"Or very confused. It stopped at that convenience store by the peak. Talked to the parasite that worked there, though that one had already been questioned."

"Huh."

"Then it went for a hike up the peak. Stupid little thing. Had to be burning alive, wearing black from head to toe."

I was about to laugh at its stupidity—it was as stupid as the one in Mel's body, wandering in the desert like that—but then there was a noise from the hole.

The parasite had curled itself into a tiny ball at the back of the hole, gasping in fear.

"What was that?" Ian peered past me into the hole.

I grabbed the lamp and looked at it myself. I still didn't trust Ian with it.

"Look at its eyes," Ian whispered to me. "It's frightened." He was right—the parasite peeked up at us, its eyes wide and terrified.

What had scared it? Had it realized that there was no hope for rescue? Was it afraid that we would kill it now?

No, we'd been talking about that for several minutes now. It was when Ian had mentioned the Seeker, the one who wasn't giving up, the one who was still looking…

"Who is the Seeker in black?" I asked it.

It stared back at me, shaking. I knew I'd guessed right.

"I know you can talk. You talk to Jeb and Jamie. And now you're going to talk to me."

It still didn't say anything, so I bent over and forced myself into the hole. It was so tiny I couldn't stand up, had to kneel to face it, almost at eye-level. I probably didn't look as threatening as I needed to.

"Tell me what you know," I demanded. When it didn't answer, I raised my voice. "Who is the Seeker in black? Why is it still searching?"

The parasite hid its face. It must have thought I was going to hit it.

It could be right. It was trying my patience.

"Ah, Jared?" Ian said. He moved behind me, trying to get into the hole, too. "Maybe you should let me—"

"Stay out of it!" Ian couldn't help matters. The last time he'd been near the parasite, he'd been choking it to death.

"Can't you see it's too scared to talk? Leave it alone—"

I whirled and punched him again. He fell completely out of the hole, his hand over his mouth.

"That's twice," he groaned, spitting a dark red glob on the floor.

"I'm ready to go for three," I warned him. This situation, Mel's body, was pushing me over the edge—I'd never hit Ian before. Only Kyle.

I took the lamp from the ground and brought it back into the hole, illuminating the parasite. It was…really dirty. "Who—is—the—Seeker?" I accentuated each word, trying to communicate how deadly serious I was.

It looked at me more squarely, studying my face. What was it thinking? I stared back at it intently, trying to focus on the silver in its eyes—not on the face that used to be Melanie's.

"I don't have to hurt you," I told it. "But I _do_ have to know the answer to my question. Tell me."

"The Seeker," it said, a little hoarsely.

"We already know it's a Seeker."

"No, not just any Seeker. _My_ Seeker."

"What do you mean, your Seeker?" I asked, puzzled. Wasn't it a Seeker itself?

"Assigned to me. Following me. She's the reason—"

"The reason?" I had gotten it talking. No need for me to scare it into silence.

"The reason I ran away. The reason I came here."

"You ran away from a Seeker? But you're one of them!" I exclaimed, confused. Then I realized: This whole thing was an act. Its fear, its hesitation—this story had been planned out for a long time. It had just been waiting for a plausible time to tell it: After the search for it stopped, after we thought it was completely alone and helpless. Then it would begin to dupe us.

I played along. "Why would it follow you? What did it want?"

The parasite whispered, "She wanted you. You and Jamie."

My face settled back into a glare. This seemed true, at least. Although why would it admit to that?

"And you were trying to lead it here?" That was the only reason. It had failed in that, at least. Sure, Melanie had seen the lines often enough, but Maggie and I had had to work together to figure out what they meant. Melanie, thankfully, hadn't known.

"I didn't…I…" It trailed off.

"What?" I prompted. Still brusque, but gentler than before. If I played nice, I might be able to worm a portion of truth out of its lies.

"I didn't want to tell her. I don't like her."

That was unexpected. "Don't you all have to like everybody?" Ian had said it earlier; all the parasites were so agreeable. They all acted the same, were friendly to everyone. Why was this one different?

"We're supposed to," it said. It seemed embarrassed. Like it was ashamed of not liking someone. I wondered vaguely how it felt about all of us—was it ashamed of hating us humans? Obviously not—it had come here to turn us all in.

"Who did you tell about this place?" Ian broke in.

The parasite didn't seem any more scared of him than me. "I couldn't tell—I didn't know. I just saw the lines. The lines on the album. I drew them for the Seeker…but we didn't know what they were. She still thinks they're a road map."

"What do you mean you didn't know what they were? You're _here_." I gestured at it, emphasizing my point. It must have figured the puzzle out sometime. But why would it come by itself if there was another one looking for us?

It was talking again. Saying something…unexpected. "I…I was having trouble with my…with the…with her memory."

Anguish flooded through me. This was the first time the parasite had said anything about its body's former inhabitant. It hadn't even said her name, but whether it knew or not, the parasite was running its razor blades down my pain.

"I didn't understand. I couldn't access everything. There were walls. That's why the Seeker was assigned to me, waiting for me to unlock the rest."

I turned around to look at Ian. His face mirrored my surprise. What was it saying? It couldn't…access Melanie's mind? What _walls_ was it talking about?

Could Melanie have made those walls? Blocked the dangerous memories in her last minutes?

Of course not. That was impossible. The parasite was making things up. Telling us things we wanted to hear. Playing us.

"Were you able to _access_ my cabin?" I snapped. I remembered finding Melanie's last note. _Don't go home, _it had said. Had the parasite told the other Seekers about my father's cabin in the canyon?

"Not for a long time."

So the defenses could be breached. Obviously. "And then you told the Seeker," I guessed.

"No."

"No? Why not?" I probed, shocked.

"Because…by the time I could remember it…I didn't want to tell her."

I lowered my voice. It was stalling, trying to better direction its lies. "_Why_ didn't you want to tell her?" I only reluctantly used the feminine pronoun. To encourage it.

It looked square at me, defiance flashing in its silver-rimmed eyes.

This question was sensitive to it. It didn't want to tell us this answer. Or maybe it didn't _have_ an answer. A conceivable lie. There _was_ no reason it shouldn't have wanted to tell another Seeker.

I accepted this and moved on. "Why weren't you able to access everything? Is that…normal?" Did everyone who was caught have some control over what the parasite saw?

The parasite hesitated, then answered. Its tone was different now. Flatter. More rehearsed. "She fell a long way. The body was damaged."

I tilted my head, eyeing it doubtfully. This was obviously a lie. So obvious that it had to be planned. Everything was a lie; all those lies had to be contrasted with something even more false. So we would believe the rest of it.

It had said…it had said Melanie had _fallen_. A long way. What had she done? How had she been hurt? Obviously her body was fine, but the parasite had just told me she had fallen, presumably in her last minutes. Was it lying about that? How much pain had she gone through?

In my distressed silence, Ian asked another question. "Why isn't this Seeker giving up like the rest?"

The parasite leaned back against the curved wall. "I don't know. She's not like other souls. She's _annoying_."

Ian laughed once in astonishment. The parasite had almost…complained. About another parasite. Soul, it had said.

It had made it sound more human.

"Are you like other…souls?" I used its word instead of mine again.

The parasite looked at me again tiredly. Put its head down. Curled into a ball.

Its charade was over. I had doubtless asked it too many questions it hadn't already made up answers for.

I crawled backward out of the hole, my knees and back throbbing. As I stretched my body out again, Ian whispered to me: "That was unexpected."

"Lies, of course," I said in an equally hushed tone. Yes, that was the most it had said since coming here, but it had obviously prepared for this moment. A moment to open up to us, to gain our trust. "Only…I can't quite figure out what it wants us to believe. Where it's trying to lead us." All I could tell was that it wanted us to believe it. Believe that it had run away, looking to find us, but not to betray us.

"I don't think it's lying. Well, except the one time. Did you notice?"

Of course. It lied worse than a kindergartener with chocolate-stained hands. Something so unbelievable had to be intentional. "Part of the act."

"Jared, when have you ever met a parasite who could lie about anything? Except a Seeker, of course."

Ian was missing the point. "Which it must be."

"Are you serious?" He actually looked surprised. Like he'd believed it.

"It's the best explanation." The _only_ explanation. Parasites didn't just up and decide to move in with humans.

"She—_it_—" he amended, seeing my expression. "—is the furthest thing from a Seeker I've seen. If a Seeker had any idea how to find us, they would have brought an army."

"And they wouldn't have found anything," I countered. "But she—" I caught myself. "—_it_—got in, didn't it?"

"It's almost been _killed_ half a dozen—"

"Yet it's still breathing, isn't it?" I shot back. Why didn't he see? What he was envisioning was too good to be true. The parasite could _not_ have come out here meaning us no harm.

He was quiet. I allowed myself to calm down. This drama, a parasite in Mel's body, had me entangled. I wasn't reacting rationally, I knew. But I was _thinking_ rationally.

"I think I'm going to go talk to Jeb," Ian said after a while.

"Oh, _that's_ a great idea." Just what Ian needed—to discuss things with the only person in the caves who'd gone soft on parasites. I didn't need Ian turning that way too.

"Do you remember that first night? When it jumped in front of you and Kyle? That was bizarre."

I did remember. How worried I'd been about it. How I'd almost been taken in by its sham of protecting me. "It was just trying to find a way to stay alive, to escape." A second later, it had run down the tunnel, like it was trying to get away.

"By giving Kyle the go-ahead to kill her—it? Good plan."

"It worked."

"Jeb's _gun_ worked. Did she know he was on his way?" He didn't even correct himself this time.

My next words came out in an exasperated groan. "You're overthinking this, Ian. That's what it wants." He was analyzing every technical detail, trying to ferret out the parasite's motivation. The problem was that its motivation was already painfully clear: it wanted to _destroy_ us. Its being in Melanie's body didn't affect my perception of _that_ at all.

"I don't think you're right. I don't know why…but I don't think she wants us to think about her at all." He stood up, stretched. Then he spoke, in a louder voice than before. "You know what's really twisted?"

"What's that?"

"I felt guilty—_guilty_—watching her flinch away from us. Seeing the black marks on her neck."

I speculated if the increase in volume had been deliberate. If he was conspicuously acknowledging remorse for those bruises.

The bruises that _he'd_ put there. Trying to kill it. He felt guilty about them. Did…did he wish he hadn't done it?

Although I didn't want it dead at the moment, I was suddenly scared of what his revelation would entail. "You can't let it get to you like that. It's not human. Don't forget that."

Ian started walking away. "Just because she isn't human, do you think she doesn't feel pain? That she doesn't feel just like a girl who's been beaten—_beaten_—by us?"

It had to be easier for him. He'd never known _Melanie_. All he saw in there was a girl. A scared, pitiful girl. He didn't see the change that I did. "Get a hold of yourself."

"See you around, Jared." He disappeared around the corner.

I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. I got up and paced the width of the corridor. Back and forth.

Mel's body was toying with me. It was manipulating everyone here. It had gotten to Jeb. It had met Jamie only briefly, but he had already been defending it against me. And now Ian was feeling remorse for almost killing it. Like he felt sympathy for it. Like he didn't hate it.

What had gotten into them?

I sat down on the mat again. Leaned my elbows on my knees. "Got to make a decision," I mumbled. "Can't let it stay here. Can't let it sucker everyone."

The list of people I had to keep it away from was growing. Jamie. Jeb. And now Ian.

How long could this go on?

The parasite shifted in its hole. I jumped, already annoyed at myself. It was just stretching out to sleep.

How long before I softened too? How long before my feelings for Melanie overshadowed my fear of this threat?

"Guilty," I scoffed. "Letting it get to him. Just like Jeb, like Jamie. Can't let this go on. Stupid to let it live."

I didn't get to sleep. After a few hours in more silence, my world was turned upside down again.

At the sound of more footsteps, I grabbed the gun and aimed it at the trespasser.

"'S just me. Don't get worked up." It was Jeb.

I cocked the gun in response.

He kept coming toward me. "Go ahead and shoot me, kid. Go ahead."

"Please leave." I didn't know what Jeb wanted, but it couldn't be good. He probably wasn't bringing bad news, but he probably wanted to talk about the thing I'd been trying to avoid thinking about for almost a week.

"Need to talk to you," he said affably. Throwing a nod in the direction of the hole, he greeted the parasite easily. "Hey there."

"You know how much I hate that."

"Yep." He probably did it just to annoy me. Bugger.

He'd probably come to tell me about the parasites abandoning their missing persons search. "Ian already told me about the Seekers…"

"I know. I was just talking with him about it."

"Great." Ian had done what he said. Talked to Jeb. Probably filled his head with more crazy ideas. Next, he'd want to assimilate the parasite. Introduce it to everyone and let it have the run of the place. Wasn't happening. "Then what do you want?"

"Not so much what I want. It's what everybody _needs_. We're runnin' low on just about everything. We need a real comprehensive supply run."

"Oh." He was asking me to lead a raid party. Something I usually…well, I didn't _enjoy_ it, but going outside gave me a sense of purpose. Made me focus, forget all my personal problems.

But now was _not_ the best time. How badly did he need this raid? "Send Kyle," I told Jeb. Challenging him.

"Okay."

Oops. I hadn't actually meant for him to…The old man was calling my bluff. "No. Not Kyle. He's too…" Rash. Impulsive. A terrible decision-maker.

Jeb laughed; he understood. "Almost got us in some real hot water last time he was out alone, didn't he? Not one to think things through. Ian, then?"

I sighed internally. My conversation with Ian was still fresh on my mind. "He thinks things through _too_ much."

A smile was growing on Jeb's face. He was just toying with me now. "Brandt?"

"He's no good for the long trips. Starts getting panicked a few weeks in. Makes mistakes." I knew exactly where he was going with this.

"Okay, you tell me who then."

I didn't answer him. On one hand, going on a weeks-long raid would be a good respite. A break from the torture I'd been imposing on myself for the past week or so.

On the other hand, who would guard it if I left? Jeb was the leader of this place; he couldn't hole up here like I had. And there was no one else I trusted to keep it alive. If I left…would it die?

Yes. It would. Without a round-the-clock babysitter like me, someone would find it. And kill it.

"Ian and Kyle together?" Jeb suggested. "Maybe they could balance each other out."

I sighed aloud this time. "Like last time?" It hadn't gone well at all. The brothers had been at each other's throats the entire trip, and they had slipped up inside a house. Alerted nearby parasites to their presence. We'd had to abort the raid, coming back with practically nothing.

I didn't want that to happen again. "Okay, okay. I know it has to be me." I just didn't know how that was possible.

"You're the best," Jeb praised me. "You changed our lives when you showed up here."

I motioned with my head toward the hole. I wasn't sure if the parasite was awake or not. "What about…"

"I'll keep an eye on her when I can. And I'll expect you to take Kyle with you. That oughta help."

"That won't be enough, Kyle gone and you keeping an eye on her _when you can,_" I told him. Any moment the parasite was alone was a moment it could die.

Jeb shrugged. Indifferently. Nonchalantly. "I'll do my best. That's all I can do."

He didn't seem to care much about it now. There were clearly more important things to worry about here. He would protect it as best he could, but…it wasn't going to be enough.

"How long can you stay down here?" he prodded.

"I don't know."

I realized then, as I answered him, what he was doing. He was giving me a gift. In his own strange way, this was his answer.

He knew I'd never be able to come to any conclusions about Melanie. I was too attached. So she—it—was consuming me.

If I left now…if I gave up my vigilance and let someone kill it—and I knew they would, if it was unprotected—wouldn't that be the best solution?

Jeb had known this. He'd probably been planning this the whole time. Kept it alive so it could die in the way that would hurt me least.

Crazy old man.

I exhaled, letting all the exhaustion, the indecision, the pain, the grief—everything the parasite had caused me—out.

I could escape this. I could leave, and when I came back, the problem would be gone. No, I wouldn't be happy, but I could be at peace.

I could take care of Jamie. Help him become a man. Unhindered by this _obstacle._

Melanie could be at rest. My memory of her could be at rest. She would again be a ghost in my head, a reminder of happiness, not a twisted zombie here with me, teasing me about what could have been.

Could I do it?

"I'll leave tonight."

Yes. I could.

"That's probably best," Jeb said.

"I'll need to get some things organized," I mused. What I _really_ needed was to get away from this place as soon as possible.

"I'll take over here, then. Have a safe trip."

"Thanks. I guess I'll…see you when I see you, Jeb." Later. Never, if I was caught—caught dead.

"Guess so."

I got up quickly, relinquishing the gun. As I walked away from the blasted storage hole, far, far away, I relinquished responsibility for Melanie. She—her body—was my past. Behind me. Done with.

Right before I exited the long, twisty corridor, I thought I heard a sob behind me. A high, feminine sob.

I'd made it cry.

...

I decided to take several guys. I needed the extra muscle…and oddly enough, the company.

Jeb had told me to take Kyle, and I'd obey him on that. But Ian and Kyle together on a raid was unbearable. Ian could stay. He hated going out, anyway.

Besides, there was a slight, _faint_ chance that he'd come to his senses and take care of this. Finish what he started.

So I when I went to Kyle and Ian's room—I went there first because Kyle took the longest to wake up—I shook Kyle awake quietly. Leaving Ian, sprawled across his bed, in peace. His lower lip was slightly swollen.

I went to Brandt and Aaron's room next. They both got up easily, eager for a change, a challenge. As a last thought, I went to Paige and Andy's room and invited Andy. After he agreed to go, I left the room, letting him wake his partner up and tell her goodbye.

I pictured myself doing that and winced.

Briefly, I considered taking Jamie. I'd taken him before. The first raid I'd gone on here, he'd been so desolate at being left alone, I'd just taken him. He'd surprisingly become an asset. He was small and speedy, which was good for stealing.

But I decided against it. He'd been through enough these past few days. He didn't need to go risk his life. One parasite was enough for him.

We all met up in the southern tunnel. Again, using the main exit was out of the question.

When we got back it wouldn't be.

Kyle scowled at me, bleary-eyed from being awoken in the middle of the night. Dark bruises had formed under his eyes since I'd last seen him up close. When he spoke, his voice was surly. "Thought you'd buried yourself with a parasite."

"Yeah, what happened to that?" Andy interjected.

I shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. I _was_ indifferent. I didn't care that the parasite would die…only Melanie. And she was already gone. "I gave it up."

"Good for you." Brandt pounded me on the back. I tried to smile.

"Okay, we've got people depending on us. C'mon."

We left the caves discreetly, slipping away like the thieves in the night we were about to become. Before the crack of dawn, we had stocked up in our supply cave and were driving away into the desert.

Once, long ago, when I was a different person, I'd promised myself never to let Melanie go. Never let her get away from me.

She had. She'd disappeared, died. And yet she haunted me.

She was gone. Dead. She, herself, had gotten away from me.

Now it was time for _me_ to _let_ her go. In my mind. I had to truly accept that she was gone.

I'd had my time with her. I didn't get forever. That was okay.

It was okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Well then! I do realize there is a slight discrepancy from the book in this chapter. It says in the novel there are six guys who go on the raid, but I never have found the name of the sixth raider, so I just left him out. Whoever he is. :)<strong>

**Can I just say again how glad I am that this part is over? Sure, it's poignant in its own way, but it's just depressing to communicate. ****Anyway, thanks again for reading! I've received five reviews so far, so thanks for that too!**

**Okay, I'm out. Thanks for reading KylerM.**


	6. Crossing the Line

**Hi again! Chapter Six. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>The kid has fallen asleep.<em>

_Melanie watches him from the doorway, but she doesn't go in to join him. I've gladly given them the mattress in the tiny sleeping room. I don't mind. I'm still just so glad I have them._

_Jamie. He's such a _kid._ Unintentionally funny. But smart. And Melanie. Mel. So sweet, and witty. So young, yet so resilient against all the horrors she's faced. She is amazing._

_I'm relaxing in the big room, not quite ready to turn in on the couch that is too short for me. She comes and sits next to me, a smile on her face._

_"Thank you."_

_I imagine, from her fervent tone, that she means for everything. The way I gathered so much food for her that first night. How I protected her and Jamie as we journeyed to this canyon. How I tried my best to make friends with Jamie, to make the kid happy. To make Mel happy._

_Even if it wasn't the end of the world, even if we weren't the last humans alive, I would do the same thing just to see this girl smile this way._

_"I feel bad," she continues. "This couch is much too short for you. Maybe you should take the bed with Jamie."_

_She's always like this too. Selfless. She's too used to being the caretaker. "Mel, you're only a few inches shorter than I am," I refute her with a laugh. "Sleep comfortably, for once. Next time I'm out, I'll steal myself a cot or something."_

_She has stopped smiling, for some reason. Her face has become serious, almost…despondent._

_I put an arm around her shoulders. I don't want her to be unhappy. I want her to be as happy as I am, that we're here, that we have each other. "Why the frown?"_

_She takes a deep breath. "When will you…when will we have to leave again?" Placing herself with me. She doesn't want to be alone, either._

_"We scavenged enough on our way up that we're set for a few months. I can do a few short raids if you want to stay in one place for a while. I'm sure you're tired of running."_

_"Yes, I am." Another deep breath. "But if you go, I go."_

_She is incredibly brave. To want to risk her life just to stay with me. I hold her to me, so grateful I found this one girl, the one who'd follow me anywhere, just like I'd follow _her_ anywhere. "I'll admit, I'd prefer it that way. The thought of being separated from you…does it sound crazy to say that I'd rather die? Too melodramatic?" She's very sensible. Doesn't think like I do. Doesn't think with her heart._

_"No, I know what you mean."_

_She does? I _must_ have made her happy. Like she did me. Because ever since I found her, I'm elated. I don't know if I even felt this upbeat when my family was still alive._

_Mel's breathing accelerates, as if she's nervous. She drops her eyes. "I don't think you need to find a cot, not yet," she blurts._

_I'm confused by this. Does she just want to stay here, together, as long as possible? I don't blame her. I want to preserve, to draw out this feeling of elation. "We'll stay here until the food is gone, don't worry. I've slept on much worse things than this couch."_

_"That's not what I mean."_

_Is she still hung up on changing sleeping arrangements? I'm not going to allow her to sacrifice any more of herself. She's too special to me. "You get the bed, Mel. I'm not budging on that."_

_"That's not what I meant, either. I mean the couch is plenty big for Jamie. He won't outgrow it for a long time."_

_But if Jamie sleeps on the couch…_

_"I could share the bed…with you."_

_I'm struck dumb._

_Why does she say this? Does she feel the need to…repay me? Surely this is not a commonplace thing for her to offer. Her face is darker. She's embarrassed by saying it._

_"Mel, I…" I take her face in my hand, but she won't meet my eyes. She is so strong, so fierce, that this vulnerability is strange on her. Out of place._

_I feel strangely vulnerable too. And…hurt. That she thinks I'd demand that from her. Doesn't she? Why else would she ask this?_

_"You don't owe me that, Melanie. You don't owe me anything at all."_

_She inhales shakily. "I'm not saying—I didn't mean that I felt obligated. And…you shouldn't either. Forget I said anything."_

_"Not likely, Mel." I would never expect something like that of her. Never ask that. But I need to know why _she_ asks._

_She's quiet for a minute. I try to explain myself, to make her understand. I'm trying to not hurt her. "Mel, it doesn't have to be like that. Just because we're together, just because we're the last man and woman on Earth…That doesn't mean you have to do anything you don't want to. I'm not the kind of man who would expect…You don't have to…"_

_"That's not what I mean. 'Have to' is not what I'm talking about, and I don't think you're 'that kind of man.' No, of course not. It's just that—"_

_"Just that…?" She tries to shake her head, to refuse to tell me. "Mel?"_

_She pulls away from me. Uncomfortable. Mortified._

_I wonder…I wonder if she asked because…because she feels something. If she feels something when she looks at me, sees me smile. If she sees me as something more than just a fellow human._

_Does she think I feel less for her?_

_I have to know. "Will you talk to me? Please?" I lean over, tilting my head to meet her tentative gaze._

_She whispers. "If I could pick anyone at all to be stranded on a deserted planet with, it would be you. I always want to be with you. And not just…not just to talk to. When you touch me… I don't want you to stop." She runs her finger down my arm. Stroking it tenderly._

_It feels wonderful._

_I don't know when my affection for this girl turned into something more. I've just been so…happy to have her here, I haven't realized how much. Or why._

_I do love her. I already knew that. I felt like she was the sister I never had. And she's another human, which is amazing. But there's something else. Something about her. She herself—really who she is, not just _what_ she is—is amazing. She's incredible._

_"If you don't feel the same way, I understand. Maybe it isn't the same for you. That's okay."_

_But I do feel the same._

_"Oh, Mel." I lean in, letting our lips touch. More than touch._

_I told myself I'd have to be careful with her. She's so young. Fragile. I couldn't kiss her like I did that first night; it would be too much for her. Overwhelming._

_But she wants me. She loves me too._

_I tell her. "It was a miracle—more than a miracle—when I found you, Melanie. Right now, if I was given the choice between having the world back and having you, I wouldn't be able to give you up. Not to save five billion lives." I suppose, in a weird, twisted way, I have the invasion to thank for this. Because I never would have found Melanie if we weren't on the run from aliens._

_"That's wrong."_

_"Very wrong but very true." Didn't my father always say how irrational love was? How much you suddenly valued someone else more than yourself? How you'd be willing to follow that person everywhere?_

_That's Melanie to me. I love her._

_"Jared." She murmurs my name. She loves me too. How incredible this is._

_I stop myself before I can get too carried away. Even though we know now, how we feel about each other, I can't do this to her. "But…"_

_"But?"_

_"But you're seventeen, Melanie. And I'm twenty-six."_

_"What's that got to do with anything?"_

_I pull away from her slightly, still stroking her arms. I don't want to push her away fully. But my father did pound this one thing into my head._

_Comprehension dawns on her face. "You've got to be kidding me. You're going to worry about _conventions_ when we're past the end of the world?"_

_Yes. Despite her strength and resilience, she's still a girl. Young. Impulsive. I don't know if what she feels for me is as…deep. I don't want her to give herself to me just to regret it later. Most people don't fall in love in a month. And even then they really shouldn't tie the knot right then and there. So to speak—we can't get _married_ anymore._

_"Most conventions exist for a reason, Mel. I would feel like a bad person, like I was taking advantage. You're very young."_

_"No one's young anymore. Anyone who's survived this long is ancient."_

_I allow myself a smile. "Maybe you're right. But…" But I'm not budging on this either. "…this isn't something we need to rush."_

_"What is there to wait for?"_

_I cast my mind around, searching for a legitimate excuse. I need to wait until she's actually a woman, but I don't think she'd like that reasoning. "Well…for one thing, there are…practical matters to consider."_

_She looks at me questioningly. Skeptically. Distractingly._

_"See…when I was stocking this place, I wasn't much planning for guests." This is coming out wrong. "What I mean is…birth control was pretty much the last thing on my mind."_

_I suddenly imagine it, what unrestrained love could bring, and my face darkens. "This isn't the kind of world I'd want to bring a child into."_

_My words hit home. I know she's thinking of the child in the other room and how fearful his life will be._

_"Besides, we've got plenty of time to…to think about this. Do you realize how very, very little time we've been together so far? It's been just four weeks since we found each other."_

_She looks shocked. "That can't be."_

_"Twenty-nine days. I'm counting." As she ponders this, I repeat, "We've got time."_

_"You don't know that. You can't know how much time we'll have. You don't know if we should be counting in months or days or hours."_

_I kiss her forehead, reassuring her. "Don't worry, Mel. Miracles don't work that way. I'll never lose you. I'll never let you get away from me."_

I got three years, five months, and six days. Then I had to let her go.

"Hey, man." Brandt nudged me, breaking me out of my reverie. "It's been half an hour."

With great effort, I pulled myself back to reality. To who I was now. Jared Howe. Human fugitive. Raid leader. Single.

"Let's hit it." The house we'd been scoping out, that had stood darkened for thirty minutes now. We'd sat behind a blind of trees, watching for any other parasites to stray out to this isolated house.

"What do we need?" Aaron asked, checking his camouflage in my mirror.

Kyle, in the back with the supplies, answered, his voice muffled: "Rice, we've barely got any here. And I want some candy."

"Somebody throw something at him," I mumbled.

"Gladly." I heard Andy oblige me.

"You guys know what we're after. Be _quiet_ about it."

They all nodded. We were here for something other than food.

"Okay, who's staying?"

"I will," Andy offered.

"Let's go. Brandt, Aaron, you're together. Kyle, stick with me."

The four of us ducked out of the moving van and filed toward the unlocked, deserted house. Andy remained in the back of the van, opening the cargo doors to help us load when we came out.

We were somewhere in Texas. On our last leg of the raid.

This trip hadn't been any different from the others. The guys had cooperated with me fine, but were always watching me—Kyle especially—for some preoccupation, some irregularity. But I was focused like always.

I was okay. I really was.

The drama of the last week in the caves was really, truly behind me. It had been five weeks, and I had hardened myself. Iced over.

I entered the house first, easing the unlocked front door open. Noticing at once the hardwood floor, I motioned for everyone to remove their shoes. We had to be absolutely quiet.

We crept through the silent house, right past the kitchen. Up the stairs. Down the hall to the master bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, the room containing a sleeping middle-aged couple. Parasites.

I held my hand out behind me, and Kyle passed me a bottle and a cloth. Slowly, so as to not slosh the liquid inside, I filled the rag with chloroform and passed the bottle back to Brandt so he could do the same.

We tiptoed into the room, pairing up on either side of the bed. Brandt and Aaron were on the man's side; Kyle and I had the woman.

It was very quick. They didn't wake up.

We carried them out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the house where Andy waited to help us. This was the only part of the raid I flat-out hated. The first time I'd gone with them, when I discovered their kidnapping routine, I was shocked. Sickened. It had almost come to a fight when I had objected. But they convinced me that one day it would help.

I studied the woman's still face, wondering if Doc would succeed with her. Could he figure out the secret? Would I ever see this woman alive and herself, not a parasite?

Could that have happened with Melanie?

I shoved that thought away as we loaded the centipedes in our van, tying them up in case they awoke. Of course not. Doc's efforts were doomed; they disgusted me. And even if he could get the parasite out and leave the human unscathed, the human conscience was long dead anyway.

I had just started to get over this. I didn't need to start questioning _now_ if I'd made the right choice. I knew I had.

My dreams of Melanie had continued, even into my waking hours. Somehow, though, they weren't as painful as before. I was coming to appreciate the period I'd had with her. Accepting the limited time.

Maybe, before Mel had come back as a parasite, I'd been moping around, waiting, hoping that she would come back to me. Really her. Now that I'd seen that wasn't possible…

Maybe my experience with the parasite would be good for me in the long run.

Maybe.

But I was getting over it, at least. Andy stayed again to guard our captives while we went back inside for provisions. As I searched the now-empty house for supplies, food, treats even, since we were almost done, I felt normal. Not angry or confused.

Some houses we broke into, normally the instances when we hit several houses in one neighborhood, we took nonperishable goods in small quantities. A single bag of potato chips. A few canned vegetables. A jar of peanut butter. Small booty that parasites could easily write off as misplaced or forgotten. Not the work of rogue humans.

Other houses, ones from which we'd ascertained the parasites were taking an extended absence, we emptied. If the parasites weren't returning for several days, we would have longer to get away, longer to stay in the clear.

Having robbed this house of its inhabitants, we could freely take whatever else we needed. With the owners in our possession, it would take other parasites even longer to connect this event with humans, longer for Seekers to get involved. We looted the house. Completely cleaned out the pantry and the fridge. Filled our ice chests with meat, eggs, and even some brandy that had been stowed in the back of the cupboard. Looked for penicillin or any human medicine, in the bathroom cabinets, to no avail.

We loaded the van completely, stuffing the back so full that there was barely any room for the guys. Kyle, the biggest, sat up front with me, but the others were uncomfortable, shoving each other and complaining loudly. They were pressed up against each other, and our hostages, whom we never let wake up.

The drive took four days. We ate as little as possible, trying to save as much food as possible for everyone in the caves. Kyle had claimed a bag of caramel sweets from the last house; he barely needed to eat anything else.

As we neared our home, everyone grew quieter. No one talked about what we'd find when we returned. Life would be normal. As it was every other time we came back.

There was no question that Mel's parasite, the centipede we'd left behind, was dead by now. I wouldn't ask who'd done it, or when, or how. It was done.

I drove the van straight to the caves so we could unload. I pulled up to the main entrance, not the low crawl space to the southern tunnel. Nobody questioned this.

When we entered the caves, carrying some of our spoils, the storage corridor was empty. There was no sign that anyone had been down here for weeks. I hated the way that made my heart hurt.

"Dang, this thing's _tiny!_" Andy remarked, folding himself into the storage hole. "Reminds me of hiding in the dryer as a kid."

I laughed with everyone else at this. Andy was good at that. Making a light joke that could have easily become awkward.

"Not that it matters now, but I wonder how _it_ managed it for a whole week."

Kyle. The master of insensitivity.

I dropped my big box of chips and cookies and walked down the dark tunnel without looking at anyone.

I went to find Doc.

He was in the infirmary. He winced when I told him what we'd brought, but of course he wanted to try them. Like he'd wanted to try Melanie.

On our way back, we met Jeb. He welcomed us back cordially, but there was a reservation in his eyes I couldn't understand. He didn't say anything about the parasite's fate, and I was glad.

The guys had finished the unloading by the time I got back with Jeb and Doc. We'd take our prisoners out of the van and take the van back to our "garage" tomorrow. All of us were exhausted.

As we carried the two unconscious parasites through the caves back toward the southern tunnel, I noticed that everyone had disappeared. There had been a few people milling around—I'd discreetly slipped past them—but now the caves were completely desolate. This was unusual for the early evening.

I heard voices coming from the kitchen, meaning that they were cooking, but that didn't take _everyone._ Where were they?

Dumping the bodies on Doc's cots, I quickly left the infirmary. I didn't want to stick around to watch him try, and fail.

I wiped my dirty face on my sleeve. The other guys, having followed me, pounded me on the back, congratulating me on another successful mission. We were in the main plaza by now, and Kyle exclaimed how much he wanted a bath.

A higher shout echoed through the huge cavern. Jamie came hurtling from the kitchen, a smile on his face.

"Jared! You're back, you're back!"

Thrown by his excitement—I hadn't seen him that happy since...well, a long time—I caught him in my arms, dirtying his t-shirt. He didn't seem to care; he kept talking animatedly. "You have to come to the kitchen, we've got chocolate bars! Oh gosh, it's the awesomest thing, and you're here now…how'd it go? We missed you!"

"I missed you too," I murmured bemusedly. He took my arm, pulling me toward the kitchen. The rest of the guys, energized by the prospect of chocolate bars, followed.

I heard the gruff voice behind me. "Jamie." I hadn't realized Jeb had followed too. "You'll want to be careful…"

"No, really, you'll wanna see!"

See what?

As we neared the kitchen, I heard voices. Not really voices, but one voice. One voice…that was achingly familiar.

Jamie dragged me around the corner, into the dining hall. Everyone was there. Facing the cooking area. Everyone.

Including the parasite I'd left for dead.

Melanie was standing behind the counter, helping Trudy put freshly baked bread into containers. She was talking, babbling something about…grandparents? Nine grandparents.

Not Melanie.

Jeb had let the parasite live. Not just live, but assimilate into the society. And not just Jeb. Ian was sitting comfortably near the oven, casually listening to the parasite speak. Wes was sitting in the crowd. Geoffrey and Heath. Lily. Travis. Walter. Reid and Violetta. Everyone.

They had all been suckered.

Hearing our entrance, the humans in the parasite's audience—they were listening to it talk, lie—turned with a collective gasp. The parasite kept talking for a moment, until it saw us too. It trailed off, catching sight of us—of me. It stared at me like it had the first time I'd seen it, its face expressing several emotions. Surprise, shock…joy, for some reason.

"What is the meaning of this, Jeb?" I asked, trying hard to keep my voice calm. I wanted to growl, to shout.

"Wanda is teaching us all about the universe," Jamie gushed. Still exuberant. Happy.

Because of the parasite. They'd let it into their lives. Jamie had let it into his _heart._ Just like I'd feared.

They'd even _named_ it.

_"Wanda?"_

Paige stood up from the crowd, stumbling toward us. "Andy!" She hurtled into her lover's arms, practically in tears. He held her tenderly, his attention diverted from the centipede who had wormed its way into the community's affections.

The community in question got up slowly, following Paige's lead, coming toward us to welcome us home. They glanced furtively back at the parasite. Guiltily.

Ian stayed beside it. Murmured something to it I couldn't hear. Reassurance?

"What the _heck,_ people?"

Kyle, standing behind me, had just now fully grasped the scene in front of us. Melanie's body. Alive. With everyone. Having duped them all. Kyle elbowed his way forward, straight for Melanie's body. "You're letting it tell you its lies? Have you all gone crazy? Or did it lead the Seekers here? Are you all parasites now?"

I hadn't thought of that. I hadn't checked anyone eyes, had only used my flashlight to confirm my own humanity. Had everyone been caught, implanted? Kept here to ensnare us when we returned? I released the boy still clinging to my arm, searching his face, his eyes, for any irregularity. Was this why he was so attached to Melanie's body now?

The people in the room looked guilty. Now they averted their eyes from Melanie's body as Kyle walked toward it. Except a few. I noticed that not everyone seemed ashamed. Trudy, Wes, Walter. They glared defiantly at us, returning our accusing stares. Were they as gullible as Jamie? Or were they...dangerous now?

Ian hopped off the counter quickly, walking forward. Stopping between Kyle and the parasite. Defending an alien against his flesh and blood.

"Things changed while you were gone, brother."

Kyle halted. I could see his silhouette tense with fear and shock. "Did the Seekers come, then, Ian?"

His younger brother stood firm. "She's not a danger to us."

Kyle pulled his flashlight out of his pocket, shone it in Ian's eyes. No silver reflection beamed back. "So, what, then? You're not a parasite. How did it get to you?"

I couldn't see any silver in Jamie's eyes either. He was human, just like before.

But he had become enamored of this parasite. Been taken in. Suckered.

Jeb had let it happen. Encouraged it, probably.

I could allow the parasite to die. I'd made my peace with that weeks ago. I could have even let Jeb allow it to live. Let him keep it prisoner a while longer.

But no. He'd _let_ Jamie become close to it. Let the kid get attached, knowing that one day the parasite would seize the opportunity to betray us all. Breaking Jamie's heart in the process. The parasite didn't care for the kid; Jamie was an instrument in its infiltration. The kid was a tool, and Jeb was letting him be used.

That was crossing the line.

Ian was talking quietly, trying to reason with Kyle. _Calm down,_ he was saying. I appreciated his diplomacy, but this was not the right situation. He was on the wrong side.

"No," I spoke up. Like that first day. Only now I was objecting to keeping the parasite alive. A reversal.

I'd thought earlier that I couldn't kill Melanie. Couldn't end her body's life because of the pain it would cause me.

But it wasn't just about me. That thing would end up hurting Jamie. Now it was time for me to put my personal feelings aside and do what was best for the kid. Be practical.

"I don't think anyone needs to calm down." I walked toward the parasite myself now. I had to end this before it got out of control. "Jeb…give me the gun." I'd make the kid leave. He wouldn't have to watch.

"Don't happen to have it on me," Jeb said behind me. I spun around, my eyes searching his body for his trademark weapon. Sure enough, he wasn't carrying it.

He wasn't carrying the gun around. Not to protect the parasite, nor to keep it under control. He just…let it run free.

But it had to die now. If Jeb wouldn't give me the gun, I could do it another way. Ian's way. "Fine. It will be slower this way." I'd have to look into its eyes as it died. "It would be more humane if you were to find that gun fast."

"Please, Jared, let's talk," Ian pleaded. So protective of it. What had it done to him? Not only did he feel guilty for almost killing it, now he was ready to guard it. Risk his life against us. His fellow humans. His _brother,_ even.

"There's been too much talk. Jeb left this on me, and I've made my decision." This had gotten way out of hand. It wasn't my feelings in danger from the parasite. It was all of us.

Jeb cleared his throat. Conspicuously. Trying to get my attention.

"What? You made the rule, Jeb." If he went back on this now, he was truly a traitor. He couldn't break his own rules. He had probably made that rule just when it looked like I'd keep the parasite alive. Now that I wouldn't, what would he do?

"Well, now that's true," he said.

Good. "Ian, _get out of my way._"

"Well, well, hold on a sec," Jeb broke in. "If you recall, the rule was that whoever the body belonged to got to make the decision."

Was he questioning my right to Melanie's body? I clenched my teeth together. I wasn't going to go there. "And?"

"Seems there's someone here with a claim just as strong as yours. Maybe stronger."

Who? Him? That wasn't fair. Surely he wouldn't put this decision on himself. But the only other person with lasting connections to Mel was…was…

Jamie.

Jeb had lost it.

Jamie understood. He had finally stopped smiling. It had finally dawned on him, what I was going to do. "You can't, Jared!" he cried, taking my arm again. "You wouldn't. Wanda's good. She's my friend!"

No. No, that thing was not his friend. He was too young and naïve to see it. All he saw was a kind, innocent façade from his sister's body.

"And Mel! What about Mel? You can't kill Mel! Please!"

And he still saw Melanie. As he struggled not to cry, as he pleaded for this alien's life, his judgment was still clouded by who this body used to be.

"So you can see Jamie's not in agreement. I figure he's got as much say as you."

Well, that he did—but he was not mature, not rational enough to see the right choice.

I didn't blame him. It had taken me weeks and some pretty extreme situations to reach this conclusion. It wasn't the kid's fault for not wanting this.

I blamed Jeb.

He'd let Jamie…fall in _love_ with this monster. Let him forget that that thing had killed his sister, that it had taken the entire planet from us, that it was now looking to get us captured and erased.

"How could you let this happen, Jeb?" I whispered. This was horrific. I'd lost the kid. Yes, he was still here, but he'd _given_ himself to the invaders. His love was tantamount to surrender.

Why hadn't I taken him with me? Why hadn't I been more responsible? Why couldn't _Jeb_ have been more responsible?

Jeb didn't answer me. "There is a need for some talk. Why don't you take a breather first, though? Maybe you'll feel more up to conversation after a bath."

I glared at him, my pain evident on my face. There was no way this situation would be rectified by talking. He stared back at me calmly, no panic or remorse in his eyes. The crazy old man really was trying to destroy me.

Finally, I gave up. I broke Jamie's hold on my arm and turned to leave. Kyle was still facing off with his brother. I made my voice a command. "Kyle."

He spun around and stomped out of the room with me. Andy led Paige out, and Brandt and Aaron followed. None of us said a word. We were in shock.

After several hundred feet in silence, Andy murmured to Paige, "What were you _thinking?_"

Paige's answer was a mortified whisper. "I…I don't know. She _seemed_ nice."

Kyle interrupted the couple's quiet conversation. "_She_ is not _human,_ sweetheart," he said nastily. "It is a _parasite,_ and it wants to kill all of us."

Delicate Paige shrank back from his vicious tone, and Andy glared at the big man. "Watch it."

"She was just telling us about other planets," Paige said meekly. But defensively. She really didn't see a problem with what she'd been doing. "She doesn't want to leave; she likes it here."

"It's not going to happen again," I said to all of them. "We have to take care of this tonight." I was sure of this now. It was best for everyone. Especially Jamie. He needed closure.

"Glad to see you come around," Kyle growled. "Now that my brother's gone to the dark side."

I pondered Ian's change of heart. What had it done to him, to make him believe? He'd already seemed to believe its performance the night we'd questioned it. Apparently in our absence, he'd become very…accustomed to it. Very familiar with it.

Urgh.

"Whaddya say to a bath?" I asked the guys. They grunted and nodded their assent, except Andy.

"I'll wait at bit," he said, his eyes on Paige again. He wanted to stay with his partner.

Naturally.

We split up, went to our rooms to get clean clothes. Made our way to the river room. Bathed in the pitch-black silence.

When we were all clean, I decided to go find Jamie. I needed to explain to him, once and for all. He needed to understand. I'd break it to him gently. I'd stay calm. But he had to accept Mel's death.

"What do we do?" Brandt asked me. I realized they were all waiting for my command. Because we were going to take the parasite out.

I thought a minute. If Jamie was as attached to the parasite as he'd seemed, he would be with it now. If I could find him…I could take care of the whole problem myself. And I didn't really want Kyle along.

"Just…go on and do something else. Help Doc, go to bed, whatever," I told them. "I'll take care of it."

"Good luck," Kyle muttered to me. And they filed out.

First I returned to my room. Grabbed a flashlight. Jamie wasn't there, even though it was probably about time for bed.

I returned to the kitchen, but only Heidi was there now. When I asked her if she'd seen Jamie, she shook her head.

I searched the big garden, the east field, even peeked in the game room. I didn't venture down the southern tunnel to Doc's. He probably wasn't finished with his victims, and I didn't care to watch _that_ tonight. Not now.

Where was Jamie?

I was on my way back to our room to wait for him to turn in—who knew _where_ the parasite slept?—when I met Reid on his way to his and Violetta's sleeping space. He told me he'd seen Jamie slip into the storage corridor.

There was only one reason Jamie would go down there.

My anger with the parasite returned in full force as I stormed back that way. I'd been so scared for Jamie that I'd almost forgotten why. I _hated_ that thing!

Entering the black corridor, I switched on the flashlight. I made no noise with my shoes, but shone the flashlight back and forth across the tunnel in big wide sweeps.

"_Jamie!_ I know you're back here!"

"Go away!" His high voice trembled with anger.

I rounded the last corner, illuminating Jamie standing with the parasite next to our cache. The parasite in Mel's body blinked, squinting into the beam.

Its eyes sent brilliant reflections scattering around the cavern.

Jamie flinched, but remained where he was, standing slightly in front of the parasite, as if he was…protecting it.

This gesture infuriated me. "Get _away_ from it!"

"Shut up! You don't know her! Leave her alone!"

Of course I didn't know _her;_ Jamie didn't know _her_ either. He only knew what this deceitful worm _wanted_ him to know. It wanted him to think that it wasn't a Seeker, that it was no different than Melanie.

I knew better.

My rage propelled me forward, and I tore Jamie away from the parasite. "You're being an _idiot!_ Can't you see how it's using you?" I was shaking him, I was so furious. This was not at all how I'd wanted to tell him, but it seemed he wouldn't understand any other way.

Melanie's body was suddenly very close to me. The parasite had squeezed itself in between me and Jamie. Protecting _him._

"Leave Jamie alone," it said quietly. Though it tried to be firm, its voice wavered in fear. It wasn't being tough; I could tell that this thing could never be fierce. It was doing this for Jamie—to gain his affections. But its fear betrayed it.

I grabbed its arms and threw Mel's body away from me. It hit the wall and fell into a pile of boxes. I reached for Jamie, to force him away from this scene, but he was staring at me in horror.

"Coward! She wouldn't hurt you to save her own life! Why can't you leave her alone?"

Before I could answer him—I had plenty of reasons why I wouldn't leave _it_ alone—Jamie grabbed the flashlight and ran over to it. "Wanda? Are you okay, Wanda?"

I didn't know where they'd gotten the name, or why they'd chosen it, but the fact that he was calling it by a human name peaked my temper. "Stay _away_ from it!" Why couldn't he let Mel go?!

He was shaking his head, not at me, but at the parasite. Why? Its lips were moving. Was it telling him to fight me? Hurt me?

I grabbed the kid with both hands now, yanking him away from Melanie's body, knocking another pile of boxes on top of the parasite. It cried out in pain.

Good. While it was trapped, I could send Jamie away, then finish the job.

"Stop hurting her!" Jamie cried out. He twisted free of me, spun around.

And punched me in the face.

My hand flew to my nose as I gasped in pain. The kid's little fist _hurt._ Although my nose didn't seem to be broken, I could feel blood trickling down my face.

Jamie's angry, defensive glare slowly slid off his face. Now he looked like he was about to cry. "You aren't the man I thought you were."

He turned and walked back down the corridor, tears threatening to spill over.

The pain in my chest was worse than in my nose. Jamie hadn't felt sorry for hitting me. He'd done it because…I'd hurt him. The actions I'd taken to _protect_ him had broken his heart.

_I'd_ hurt him, not the parasite.

He was gone now, though. I could finish the parasite; it was still struggling out from under the heavy boxes. I could end it now.

But Jamie.

I knew Melanie's body would eventually try to betray us. But from what Jamie could see, for the time being, he'd been betrayed by me. Betrayed and disillusioned.

_You aren't the man I thought you were._

"Aw, _dang it!_" I shouted. "Jamie, get back here!" There was no response. I forced the next words from my mouth. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't cry, kid!" I didn't want to apologize for hurting it. The parasite deserved it.

But I had to fix this. Square things with the kid before I did anything that would hurt him more.

I stole a last look at Melanie's body. It was watching me, fear evident on its face. It was terrified of me. As I picked up the flashlight, I could see blood oozing from a scrape on her cheek. How had that happened? It hadn't been there a minute ago…

I turned around, forcing the question from my mind. "Jamie! Jamie, I'm sorry, you hear me? I'm _sorry!_" I jogged down the corridor, catching up to him at the mouth. "Hey, _please_ listen."

He didn't turn around, but kept walking, his steps jerky. "You hurt her. She loves you, and you _hurt_ her."

I was speechless for a moment. She _loved_ me? "Jamie, why would you say that? Okay, it's Mel's body, but she's not there! I feel bad about it too, kid. I understand. But…that thing wants to hurt us. Like your dad. Remember what happened to your dad?" His father had been caught—and had come back for him and Melanie with Seekers in tow.

He'd stopped walking. His lip trembled. "She's different," he finally whispered. "She told me…she told me…" He bit his lip and wiped his face fiercely.

So the parasite had been filling Jamie's head with harebrained lies, and he'd swallowed all of them. Believed in the _love_ it had offered. Of course he'd be angry if I tried to hurt it.

I needed to hear all these lies. I needed to know everything it had told them, so I could figure out why. I needed to know exactly what everyone thought about this parasite.

I had to go talk to Jeb.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. From now on in the story, things are going to start picking up, so it won't all be gloom and doom and hate and whatnot. BUT...that also means that the story will get...harder to write. Ergo...longer periods between postings. Sorry in advance!<strong>

**I'm telling you, this story is messing up my grammar. I keep referring to EVERYONE as _it. _I've even done it in real life a couple of times! Glad that'll change soon in the story.**

**Okay...apologies in advance for my bad Spanish: Gracias para leer KylerM. Couldn't resist!**


	7. I Just Want to Know

**Whew! This part of the story is kind of a gray area—it's kind of hard to tell what Jared's thinking in this section. I did my best, but let me know if you have any suggestions or corrections!**

**Chapter Seven. ¡Disfrútalo!**

* * *

><p>Jeb's living space was much more furnished than everyone else's. Sure, he slept on a mattress just like the rest of us, but he had come to these caves directly from his home. He'd been able to bring his books, his desk, even a comfy armchair.<p>

He wasn't in there when we arrived. Jamie plunked down on Jeb's mattress, and scooted to a far corner when I tried to sit next to him.

I tried to talk to him. "So, kid, how'd things go while I was gone?"

He kept his face turned away from me. "_Fine_. I made friends with Wanda. That's it."

The parasite's odd name again. I snorted derisively. "Where'd you get a name like that?"

Jamie looked around at me, encouraged by my apparent interest. "Her name is Wanderer. We call her Wanda as a nickname."

Wanderer. I'd heard crazier ones. Ruffled Petals, Empty Pocket, Drinking Sunshine. Kyle and Ian had met one named Tentacles once.

"What has i…_she_ told you?"

He shrugged. "She tells us about other planets. Anything we ask her. She's just really…nice. To me, and to everybody."

"Doesn't it bother you that she's…in Melanie's body?"

Jamie looked uncomfortable. He started to say something, but just then Jeb walked in. He was carrying his gun in his belt again. "Jared, if you or Kyle went behind my back—"

"Jeb, relax," I interrupted tiredly. I had seen that hurting the parasite would hurt Jamie more than if I left it in peace. "I won't hurt it." My alternative now was to make sure Melanie's body never escaped. Maybe, just _maybe_, Doc would succeed one day.

The old man eyed me dubiously. "You'd swear to that?"

I scowled. Both Jeb and Jamie were watching me expectantly. Waiting for my response. Were they really going to tie me in like this?

Letting the parasite live was _not_ a good idea. Alive, it would work tirelessly to escape, to get free of us. Free, it would work tirelessly to expose us. Kill us. Including the ones closest to it, like Jamie.

But if I killed it, Jamie would hate _me._

I couldn't lose him. I _could_ keep the parasite under control, but I couldn't lose the kid.

"Yes."

"Really?" Jamie said. He looked so sad, so worried that I would destroy the new center of his universe.

But he'd loved Melanie too. He did have equal say in what happened to her body. And I wouldn't be the one to hurt him anymore. "I promise."

The miserable look melted off his face, replaced by the ecstatic smile from earlier. "Oh, Jared, you're gonna love Wanda! Once you get to know her, you'll see how amazing she is! She came here for you and me because Mel showed—"

"All right, all right," I said in a rush. There would be no me getting to know the parasite. "Jamie…you have to remember she _killed_ Mel."

"No, she really didn't! When they put her in—"

"Okay, fine, it wasn't _her_ who did it," I admitted, losing none of my steam. "But it was her kind. _She_ is one of them. A monster. A _parasite,_ Jamie."

"Jared." Jeb sounded very serious. He motioned with his head back toward the kid. "Listen to him."

"Melanie's still alive!" Jamie blurted.

What?

Oh, it was good. It had played the ultimate, master card.

Of course Jamie trusted the parasite. Look at what it had told him.

It had told him Melanie was still alive.

"I believe it," Jeb said, his voice steady. Certain.

I mouthed soundlessly at their stupidity, at their blind trust. "Wha—_why?_"

"She told me," Jamie whispered. "She told me how strong Mel is. How she tried to protect us. She and Wanda are friends now, Wanda says—"

"Your _Wanda_ is lying, Jamie," I told him, working hard to keep my voice even.

"She doesn't want to hurt us, Jared. She…she loves us."

"She doesn't love—"

"Look at the facts," Jeb said. "She came out here alone. No one knew how to find her. She's here now, and she isn't lookin' for a way out. All she wants is to be here with you and the kid. You can't not see it."

"She'd love you too, if you let her," Jamie said. He could tell that I wasn't buying it, that I wasn't going to soften. His voice trembled again. "But you just want to hurt her."

"I won't," I mumbled, tousling his hair in reassurance. "I promised."

How were they so blind?

We sat in silence for a few minutes, until I told Jamie to get to bed. He gave me a long, hard stare I didn't fully comprehend and headed out. I stayed where I was.

"Jeb…"

"Now, don't be pigheaded about this. You just spend a couple days watchin' her, and you'll see."

I cared less about the parasite's feelings than the great big lie it had told. "There's no way Melanie could survive an insertion. You know that's not possible. It's lying to you."

"Well, now actually, that's not true." Jeb was beginning to smile. "She didn't actually tell me that."

"Then _why_ do you think that?"

Jeb had a full-blown grin on his face now. "I guessed right. I just got to talking about some things that I'd wondered, and…I hit a nerve." He stretched out on his mattress, displacing me with a swift kick, clearly ready to retire. "She's not too good at hidin' her feelings."

"It's _acting!_" I hissed.

"Whatever you say, kid. Keep being stubborn."

"I will," I assured him as I headed out. I wouldn't soften at the parasite's emotional charade. Because it was in Melanie's body, I had to be extra vigilant against its attempts.

Jamie wasn't in our room when I got there. He was probably with the parasite, wherever it was. He was so..._devoted_ to it. And it was leading him by the nose.

I stretched out on my back on the mattress, grateful for such a soft resting place. After weeks sleeping in a cramped moving van, the skinny, bare mattress felt wonderful.

My arms ached to hold someone. Not just someone. Melanie. I missed her so much.

Jamie thought she was alive, but I knew that wasn't possible. That didn't make the pain any better, though.

Why did she have to be taken? She was trying to do something good. The separation had hurt us both even when we'd thought she would return, but she'd gone anyway because she was good like that. Brave. She'd worried herself sick over Jamie, who'd been the most apprehensive about the whole thing.

I remembered what she'd told him…

_The stolen car is powerful, much more powerful than the Jeep. We speed along the deserted highway, the engine purring as if it enjoys our dangerously fast pace. Why am I speeding toward our separation?_

_Mel glances worriedly back at Jamie who, despite his efforts to stay awake all night, has dropped off in the back seat. I remember the lines on his forehead, his anxiety for Mel. Which in turn caused _her_ to be anxious for _him.

_I reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'll take care of him, Mel. Don't worry about him."_

_"I can't…not," she whispers. "I can't help but think about…Dad. What that did to him."_

_I think about my own father's death. He had the luxury of dying as himself—although that didn't make his loss any easier on me._

_"I told him I'd come back," she breathes. "I promised." Even in the moonlight I can see the fear on her face._

_"Then I guess you'll have to," I say, forcing my tone to be characteristically light. I am so stressed I can hardly joke with her. This trip is pushing us to the breaking point._

_She rests my hand on her cheek. "I'll come back for both of you," she vows, the resolve making her face fiercer. Braver._

_I believe her. Melanie never breaks promises. She'll come back to me. "That's my girl."_

"Did you come back to me, Mel?" I found myself whispering. I forced my eyes open, finding them heavier than a minute ago. Maybe I'd dropped off to sleep in my musings.

Melanie was so strong. I'd never doubted her resolve when she was alive.

She had disappeared. Her last words had indicated that she'd been caught, that she knew she was about to be implanted.

Then she'd come here. Not her. Her parasite. The crazy parasite inside her head had seemed to have no plan in place, only to come out here and find us. It had been here a month now, and it had done nothing. Had coexisted peacefully with everyone. And it had told Jamie lies. Lies to make him trust it.

But...what if they were true? What if the centipede had told us the truth when Ian and I had questioned it? That Melanie's memories had walls. That the parasite hadn't been able to see everything.

And before, when I'd...when I'd beaten her up, the parasite hadn't resisted. Moreover, it had defended Jamie against me, even though it had nothing to gain. Like it cared about him. Like...it was still Melanie.

Jeb seemed so sure. Jamie too, but Jeb was uncannily smart. He had a lot of crazy theories, but...this one he was certain about.

Was...was it possible that she'd survived?

Of course not. That was wishful thinking.

Wishful thinking that had brought this body snatcher miles out into the desert, bringing Melanie's body back to us. Me.

It was so tempting. Thinking about it now, I wanted so much for this improbable scenario to be true. Maybe it was.

But how was it possible? The parasite had _professed_ to being a different person than Melanie. It acted differently. It was...softer than Mel. It carried itself slightly differently. It was shyer. More uncertain. When it spoke, I heard none of the aggression that Melanie had harbored. I heard gentleness, or maybe it was cowardice. Melanie had not been as mild-mannered or kind, not to everyone. If I was so generous as to grant the parasite a well-intentioned personality—which I wasn't—it still was not Mel.

If Melanie was alive, where _was_ she? It was impossible for her to be alive after a parasite had taken over her body. Right?

"Jared," Kyle said brusquely. I shot up off the mattress, searching his darkened face. He stood still in the doorway.

"What?" Why was he here? Had he done something?

If he'd killed the parasite...what _would_ I do?

"It's Doc," he said.

Oh.

I stood up with less urgency. "How'd it...?"

His deep voice was somber. "You know how it went."

Of course I did. There was only one outcome to Doc's efforts. The only question was how hard he was taking it. Doc hated ending lives, even if the _human_ life had already been ended.

Kyle went on. "We've got to bury them before morning."

I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to discern the time. The moon was still out. I obviously hadn't gotten a full night's sleep, if any sleep at all.

"Did..." Kyle hesitated. "Did you find the parasite?"

I took a deep breath, knowing he wasn't going to like my news. "Yes, but...it's still alive."

_"Why?!"_ Kyle hissed, his hushed voice carrying so much anger he sounded absurd. Demented. Had I sounded this way earlier, when I'd attacked it? Surely I wasn't as spiteful, as bitter, as Kyle.

But I why _had_ I spared the parasite?

Well, for one thing, Jamie had become far too protective of it. I'd discerned that hurting it would hurt him far more than leaving it alone—unless it escaped, which I would never let happen. I had to cooperate with the kid, in order to keep him safe. I didn't want him close to the parasite at all, but nor did I want him hating me for the rest of his life because I'd killed his "friend."

The parasite's good behavior had also contributed to my leniency, although I knew that could change at any time.

And now there was that other thing Jamie had told me. About Melanie. More than anything, I wanted to see if that was true. Even though my good sense insisted there was no way, I wanted to investigate it for all it was worth.

Kyle was still waiting for my response. "Don't tell me it got to you, too. Ian's been completely...bamboozled."

"Is that so?" I weighed this, remembering Ian's protective behavior in the kitchen. How sure he'd seemed. He had believed its stories from the beginning; why wouldn't he defend what he thought was true? He was...righteous like that. Sometimes too much so. Like now.

"He _trusts_ it. He says it...loves Jamie."

I'd seen this myself. The parasite, imitating Melanie's feelings for Jamie, had ensnared the kid completely.

But was it an imitation? What if...what if it was real? What if those caring, affectionate gestures I'd witnessed were really...because of Mel?

"Huh," was all I said to Kyle. I walked past him, ready to get this chore over with. Burying bodies was no fun task. Especially now that I had a _live_ parasite here, taunting me with my feelings for Mel.

When we entered Doc's cave, he was slumped in the chair behind his desk. His eyes were hollow. The bodies we'd brought him earlier were covered, pushed out of his sight. Completely dead.

My nose wrinkled at the heavy, metallic smell. It was a mixture, I knew, of the different chemicals Doc used—chloroform, other sedatives, sometimes toxins—and the exposed parasites. They always smelled like that when Doc took them out of a human body.

Ian was cleaning the operation cots and one of the tables. Silver residue stained the rag he was using. He smiled faintly at me when I came in, but gave Kyle, trailing behind me, a less-than-friendly look. I wondered vaguely what type of argument they'd had now. If it was about the parasite.

"Hey, Doc," I greeted him, going over to his corner. He jerked slightly but didn't acknowledge me otherwise. He was looking beyond me, staring at nothing.

"I shouldn't do it now," he mumbled to no one in particular. "Not with Wanda here."

I sighed irritably. Doc too. "Doc, why don't you do _Wanda?_ She's no different." I didn't want this, not really. But now I was annoyed of the special treatment Melanie's body received. Even though _I_ had initiated it.

"Hey," Ian protested loudly. Defensively.

Doc didn't take notice of him. "Wanda's carrying Melanie. Inside her head. She's...different. They share...share...thoughts..."

His words ran together, slurring like he was...drunk. Then I saw the crate of brandy on the floor beside him, the bottle in his hand. He _was_ drunk. The pain of yet another failure had pushed him to the breaking point.

"You boys better take care of those...people quick," Jeb said gruffly. I hadn't seen him, sitting quietly in the corner. His manner was gloomy as well.

I motioned with my head to Doc. "Take care of him." He didn't look good at all.

"Sure thing."

I went over to the bodies and hoisted one up over my shoulder. Kyle took the other, and Ian set down his rag and grabbed shovels for us. We headed down the crawlspace outside; we didn't want to upset anyone by hauling cadavers through the caves.

The moon was still out, the sky dark. We carried the bodies to the grotto where many other bodies were placed, other failures of Doc. Ian handed out shovels, and we set to work.

Our labors were silent. I sensed Ian was angry at his brother for his hatred of Melanie. Melanie's _body._ Of course, that meant he was angry at _me_ too, because I had wanted to kill it.

But I didn't anymore. I didn't know _what_ to think. As the sky lightened bit by bit, I was swimming in doubts and confusion. What was the _deal_ with the parasite?

Why had it come here? What was it after?

The answer seemed plain. The parasites obviously knew there were still humans out here—people like Melanie's body remembered us. So those bodies that had strong connections to rogue humans would be sent to collect us. I'd seen it done.

But...this had been going on for a long time. We weren't stupid enough to fall for that trick anymore. Were they really pulling the same old stunt? Or was there some other reason the parasite was here?

Jeb thought that...it had come searching for _us_. Me and Jamie. Not to turn us over to the Seekers, but to...find us. To stay with us. Because...it cared about us.

That path would seem much more reasonable, given the circumstances under which the parasite had come here. Except it was a _parasite._ I had never before thought of the aliens as _sensitive_ beings. They didn't have feelings—not toward us, anyway. Why should this one be any different?

It had defended Jamie, though. The kid _loved_ it. And he'd said...it wanted to love me too, but I wouldn't let it.

I was puzzled and intrigued by what Doc had said in the hospital. He'd been drunk, but that didn't mean there wasn't truth in his words—or at least what he thought was true. He'd said that...that the parasite was _carrying_ Melanie. As in carrying her around...inside her head.

Was this parasite easily moved by the memories and emotions inside Melanie? Or did it seem to care for us because...Melanie was actively influencing it? Inside her _head?_

I couldn't come up with an answer as I dug.

By the time the sun broke over the horizon, the bodies were six feet under. Well, actually quite a bit more—we couldn't have them coming back up. All three of us were filthy and exhausted. Kyle and I had barely slept since we'd gotten home; he threw down his shovel and flopped to the ground. Ian kicked at him playfully—mostly playfully.

I scooped up the three spades and bade them to come inside. Ian tensed, as if he'd realized something, then hastened back toward the entrance. Kyle groaned as he sat back up, and I helped him to his feet. "Guess we'll have to bathe again."

Again? It felt like a lifetime ago that the raiders and I had cleaned up after returning. A lifetime since I'd been sure of my course.

We clambered back through the low tunnel, back into the hospital. Doc was still drinking. I counted three empty bottles strewn across his desk, and I could see a couple more on the floor. Lily was there, gathering the soiled sheets from the cots into a basket, her face set. Ian had already disappeared, probably anxious to bathe before us.

Kyle and I walked down the long southern tunnel together in silence. When we reached the main plaza, it was clear from everyone's faces that they knew about the tragedy, that we'd lost two more human bodies forever.

Sharon came from the dining hall, her face streaked with tears. She must have had a rough night, knowing how much her partner was suffering. But instead of going to the infirmary, she headed back toward the sleeping halls.

Kyle watched after Sharon too. "Doc was really torn up about it this time."

"Yeah. I don't even know why we let him keep trying. When it's over, it's over."

"He really thought he had it this time. He was so sure..."

Yeah, right. There were no near-misses, no almost-successes. Every time Doc failed, he failed miserably.

"Oh, well," Kyle went on. "It will be worth all this if he figures it out someday."

_"If,"_ I repeated scathingly. It was a lost cause. Besides, if we did succeed, could we really take the entire world back? The aliens outnumbered us by the millions, and there were always more coming. Of course we couldn't just give up, but ending more lives was going to kill Doc one day. "I guess it's a good thing we found that brandy. Doc's going to blow through the entire crate by nightfall at the rate he's going."

"He'll pass out soon enough. I wish Sharon would stay with him, though. She's _avoiding_ him."

"How kind of her." I didn't respect this trait of Sharon's. She tended to stay away from Doc when he was miserable like this, unable to take more unhappiness. Sometimes she even slept in her mother's room. His suffering made _her_ suffer as well, and she didn't like to be in close proximity to his misery.

"I know. I guess he'll get over it sooner or later." At least _his_ partner was alive and well.

Kyle and I reached the black bathing room, finding it empty. Ian must have skipped out on a bath. Why...?

I mulled over this small mystery as we cleaned up again, washing the light brown desert dirt from our clothes and skin. When we finished, Kyle headed back toward his room wordlessly, lurching precariously from exhaustion. I followed him slowly, on the way to my own room. As I passed the round cave that Kyle and Ian shared, I could already hear his thunderous snores.

I hadn't seen the parasite at all today. Perhaps it was hiding from me. Scared of me. Even though I'd promised not to hurt it, I was still glad we hadn't met. Melanie's body could mix me up in an instant.

My stomach rumbled; I hadn't had breakfast, and it had to be about lunchtime by now. However, I was...reluctant to go eat. Would the centipede be in the dining hall? Would it approach me? Give a show of _love?_

I decided to be a coward and scavenge something from the storage hole. The place needed cleaning up anyway, after I'd beaten Melanie's body up. So I stole a lantern and made my way down to that place I'd hated so fiercely.

No one was down there, of course, but someone had left a mat down here. It hadn't been there when we returned, or when I'd gone looking for Jamie. Someone had slept here last night. Who had slept here was pretty obvious.

Huh. I'd thought Jamie had been with the parasite, but there was only one sleeping mat down here. Had it made the kid sleep on the hard floor? Or...had _it_ slept on the floor?

Boxes were scattered everywhere from our struggle last night. I resigned myself to picking them all up, stacking them nicely again. I pulled a sleeve of Ritz crackers out of one of the boxes, nibbling on them sporadically. My mind was elsewhere.

Melanie. Was she alive? Could _she_ have been the reason her body had come back? Could she still be conscious and aware...inside the parasite's head? Did that happen? We'd never imagined it was possible. Could it be?

But if Melanie was alive, why hadn't the parasite _told_ us?

Had it guessed that we wouldn't believe it? I remembered interrogating it with Ian. It had very obviously lied about why it couldn't access Melanie's memories. I had thought the lie had been a decoy, but could the parasite have actually guessed that this dangerous answer—that Melanie was consciously blocking certain memories—could get her killed? Because we _might_ have killed her for telling us such a tempting lie. Killed _it._ The parasite.

Was Mel really there? That she was alive inside the parasite was...both comforting and disturbing. And I wanted to know if it was true.

Only the parasite would tell me. I couldn't guarantee that it would tell the truth though, or even talk to me. It probably _was_ scared silly of me.

Maybe I could catch it off guard.

Since it had obviously slept here last night, I figured this corridor was currently the parasite's living space. I sat down on the sleeping mat, ready to wait until bedtime for the parasite to come down here, if I had to. My questions needed answers—they were integral to my role in the parasite's existence here.

Melanie's parasite was shy at best, or, at worst, purposefully, insidiously reticent, especially with me. It might not want to answer these vital questions. Perhaps I could get it to respond—whether it wanted to or not.

If its answer was a lie, if it would have the sadistic nerve to tell me its human was alive, I knew what would need to be done—immediate disposal, no more speculation or emotional attachments. If not...well, how could it _not_ lie about this? How could it tell me, or _prove_ to me, that Mel was there? I had a feeling we wouldn't be seeing much more of Melanie's body.

I just wanted to know.

I didn't end up waiting very long for it. Echoing voices and footfalls alerted me that someone was coming down the corridor. I could hear two distinct voices, a deep male voice and...a quiet, hesitant female one. One that hurt me to hear.

"...the point of all this? Won't it hurt Jamie more, the longer I'm alive? In the end, wouldn't it be better if—"

"Don't think like that, Wanda. We're not animals. Your death is not an inevitability."

"I don't think you're an animal."

"Thanks—I didn't say that as an accusation, though. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Ian. Ian and the parasite. What had Jamie called it? Wanda.

_That_ was where Ian had gone this morning. To find it. To make sure Kyle or I didn't find it and hurt it. How chivalrous.

The pair of them must have seen my light, because the footsteps stuttered to a halt. After a second, though, they started back up again, louder than before. Only one tread now.

Ian rounded the corner casually, as if he was just taking a stroll down this little-used, dead-end corridor. "Jared?" he said, as though my appearance here was unexpected.

Did he think I was deaf? "I know it's with you." And I had to talk to it.

It hadn't followed Ian. Too scared, probably. I raised my voice almost to a shout. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

After just a few seconds, Melanie's body came around the corner, shoulders hunched timidly. It took in the scene, eyes locking longer than necessary on me.

Ian didn't move from where he was, but spread his arms slightly, as if to keep it from coming any closer to me. "At ease," I told him. "I just want to talk to it. I promised the kid, and I'll stand by that promise."

He didn't relax. "Where's Kyle?"

He thought I was plotting, trying to find some way to get rid of the parasite without doing it myself. But this time my motives were pure. "Snoring. Your cave might shake apart from the vibrations." When he still didn't budge, I added impatiently, "I'm not lying, Ian. And I'm not going to kill it. Jeb is right. No matter how messed up this stupid situation is, Jamie has as much say as I do, and he's been totally suckered, so I doubt he'll be giving me the go-ahead anytime soon."

"No one's been _suckered,_" he said defensively.

I rolled my eyes, waving away the triviality. If he didn't want to believe he'd been lied to, duped, then that was his problem. "It's not in any danger from me, is my _point._" The parasite hadn't moved; it was still peeking around the corner, practically shaking with fright. It was scared silly of me. "I won't hurt you again," I addressed it.

It stepped forward slightly, still trembling. Ian turned to face it. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. This isn't a duty or chore to be done. It's not mandatory. You have a choice."

Why would he say that? Did it only do things it considered _mandatory?_ Or did it always do what was expected of it? Either way tangled my view of the parasite even more.

"No," it said, very faintly. "I'll talk to him." It _agreed?_

I beckoned it forward encouragingly. It took small, tentative steps down the corridor toward me.

I wondered why it had said yes. It knew what I'd done to it, and despite my promises to the contrary, it acted like I was going to hurt it again. Why was it willing to talk to me if it thought I would hurt it? This parasite made no sense.

Ian followed it down the corridor, just a few paces behind it. Still protecting it.

"I'd like to talk to it _alone,_ if you don't mind."

"I do mind."

What was up with him? He was going out of his way to keep this thing safe. This was much more than dedication to the truth. He seemed to be...dedicated to _it._ Like Jamie. But I couldn't ask my questions if he was there.

"No, Ian, it's okay. Go get some sleep. I'll be fine." It was...telling him to leave? Why? It didn't _act_ like it trusted me. Maybe it had something up its sleeve.

I couldn't figure this parasite out. It was so...different than others I'd met.

"This isn't some death wish?" Ian asked. "Sparing the kid?"

"No. Jared wouldn't lie to Jamie about this."

I thought about _how_ it knew that—it knew from Melanie's memories how much the kid trusted me—and scowled.

But _what_ was going through Ian's mind? He thought...that the parasite was trying to get itself killed? To make Jamie feel better? Had it really made him think that it would do that? This parasite's performance was...uncanny. Way overboard.

Unless it wasn't a performance.

"Please, Ian," it said. "I _want_ to talk to him."

Ian looked at me furiously. When he spoke, his voice was forceful and emphatic. "Her name is Wanda, not _it._ You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide." He turned to leave.

So he was angry with me for hurting it. Ironic, since _he'd_ tried to kill it in the beginning.

Why did he feel that way, though? He had believed the parasite was telling the truth, sure, and he'd had weeks to get used to it living here. But...so had the others. Why was Ian the one following it around, protecting it from me, Kyle, everyone? Surely not because Jeb ordered him to; he'd be carrying the gun around to defend it. He just wanted to keep it safe more than anyone else.

Did he...have an _attachment_ to it?

Had the parasite been playing him too? He'd really seemed to be familiar with it. Seemed to know it well. Was there something else motivating him? Something that would actually have him _threaten_ me in order to keep it out of danger?

My mouth opened slightly, coming to this realization. Sensing the parasite's eyes on me, I tore my gaze away from the dark corridor and forced myself to look at it. "Wow. He's not kidding, is he?"

It looked away. Wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

The parasite slowly walked over to me and sat on the edge of the mat, keeping away from me. The whole side of its face was scraped. Crusted with blood still. _I_ had done that. Somehow. When I'd come so close to killing it.

"I'm sorry about last night, about your face. I shouldn't have done that." It continued to look downward, at its tensed hands. Its whole body was rigid. Petrified. "You don't have to be afraid of me."

It nodded, still silent, unwilling. I made an indignant noise in my throat. "Thought you said you would _talk_ to me." It shrugged. Ian seemed to have taken its voice with him.

Just as I'd thought, it didn't want to speak with me. For some reason, whether it had exhausted its store of lies, or it was not ready to tell me the truth, I could tell before I asked I wasn't going to get a straight answer. I was going to have to force it.

I moved down the length of the mat, moved to sit right next to it, until we were almost touching. In such close proximity, Melanie's familiar warmth was more...distracting. I hadn't been this close to her—in a peaceable situation—since she'd come here. Since her body had come here. Melanie's _body._ Melanie.

Was she still there?

"I just have one question. You can probably guess what it is. Jeb and Jamie spent all last night jabbering at me..." Its head shot up, meeting my eyes briefly then turning away.

It must have known what I wanted. But it was reluctant to look at me, reluctant to let me see its face. Why didn't it want me to know? Either way, why wouldn't it just _tell_ me? I'd promised not to hurt it!

I reached my hand for its face. It flinched away, almost hitting its head on the wall. Irritated, I told it again, "I'm not going to hurt you," and took its chin in my hand.

Looking into its silver-rimmed hazel eyes, I _tried_ not to hate it. I tried, but wasn't quite successful. Memories of Mel, juxtaposed with this alien that so resembled her, colored my even, impartial disposition. Made me angry. Perhaps seeing the revulsion in my expression, its face twisted, its eyes filling with tears.

It had a name, and I'd use it, to get my answer. "Wanda." _Did you kill my soulmate or not?_ "Is Melanie still alive—still part of you? Tell me the truth."

Restrained by my hand, it did its best to avoid my eyes. It seemed to be undergoing an internal struggle—it focused on the cave wall, a bead of sweat forming on its forehead. As I waited, it shivered. Fear? Disgust? What was it thinking?

I waited for several minutes as it battled, struggled to tell, not tell, tell a lie. It finally looked straight at me, stared into my eyes, perhaps trying to communicate something without words.

I wasn't getting it. As our standoff lengthened, its—Melanie's—eyes spilled over with tears. They pooled into my palm, but I didn't budge. A show of emotion wasn't going to move me. I had to know.

_Melanie? Are you there?_

As if it had heard my silent query, it pulled away from my grasp. Dropped its face from my sight. Tears dripped onto its lap. Exasperated, I dried my own hands on my shirt and slumped back against the wall. I could understand its reserve, but it had to say _something._

More minutes passed. The parasite in Melanie's body seemed to relax, lapsing into a stupor.

I didn't relax. What made this parasite so...special? Why had it been able to wriggle its way into my family's affections? Jamie, Jeb, now Ian...its stories had _suckered_ everyone. Perhaps even me.

I found myself speaking, voicing my introspection. "And so, because of you, Jeb and Jamie are convinced that it's possible to continue some kind of awareness after...being caught. They're both sure Mel's still kicking in there." I tapped her—Melanie's—head with my fist. "Jamie thinks she's _talking_ to him." It didn't respond to that, so I baited the end of my statement. "Not really fair to play the kid like that—but that's assuming a sense of ethics that clearly does not apply."

It curled up, retreating into itself. What did that mean? Had I struck home in my accusations? Or was it just uncomfortable with my distrust?

Perhaps the best way to get it to respond was to keep talking. "Jeb does have a point, though. That's what's _killing_ me! What are you after? The Seekers' search wasn't well-directed or even...suspicious." I remembered what Kyle had told me while we were on the raid. The parasites on the outside hadn't looked very hard at all. "They only seemed to be looking for you—not for us." I couldn't resist baiting my one-sided conversation again. "So maybe they didn't know what you were up to. Maybe you're freelancing? Some kind of undercover thing."

No response. It was just staring at its knees, barely seeming to be listening.

"Maybe they're right, about the killing-you part, anyway." This was true enough. If it made Jamie happy and was at the very least tolerable to the community at large, I wasn't opposed to keeping Melanie's body alive. Especially if there really was a possibility that the parasite wasn't lying about this one crucial thing. The one thing it would say _nothing_ to me about.

"Nobody's going to hurt you now. As long as you aren't causing any trouble...I can sort of see their point." I could be pragmatic. Never mind that she made my heart hurt every time I saw her—and remembered she wasn't Mel. "And maybe, in a sick way, it would be wrong, like they say. Maybe there _is_ no justifiable reason to...except that..."

Well, there was the one. The thing that had formed my resolve to kill it, even though that course of action hadn't gone very well. "Jamie. It scares me how attached he's getting."

Its head snapped up when I said the kid's name. Was it sensitive about him because he was important to its deception? Or because it actually cared about him?

"Shouldn't have left him behind," I said quietly to myself. "I never imagined..." That Jeb would be so careless. That everyone would be softened so quickly. That Jamie could so easily accept a different person in his sister's body. "And I don't know what to do about it now. He thinks Mel's alive in there. What will it do to him when..." When you betray us. When someone kills you. When he figures out you're lying.

"I'm surprised you got through to Jeb. He's a canny old guy. He sees through deceptions so easily. Till now."

It didn't move. How _had_ such a silent creature gotten through Jeb's perception? Everyone's distrust? As I condemned it again and again of deceiving us, of being our worst enemy, it just _sat_ there. Didn't protest, didn't buckle under my accusations. Didn't answer my questions.

"Not much for conversation, are you?"

How could this be a master plan? This pathetically defenseless parasite had nothing to gain by anything it was doing. Except...our affections. Jamie's. Mine.

Where would that lead it? Once we trusted it, would it take steps to betray us? Escape, to reveal our little colony to...to the other parasites who had left it for dead? How would faking its own death have helped its credibility with the other Seekers?

"The part that keeps bugging me is what if they're right? How would I _know?_ I _hate_ the way their logic makes sense to me. There's got to be another explanation."

I tried a more direct approach again. I turned to face it, watching its face closely, though it didn't turn to face me. "Why are you here?"

Melanie. Was she still there? I _wanted_ her to be. I wanted for her body, taken over by an alien, to still contain some part of her. Because she promised me she'd come back.

"Why? You know, Jeb has this crazy idea that you're here for me and Jamie. Isn't that nuts?" It _was_ crazy to think that Mel's _emotions_ were what brought her body out here. Despite Melanie's fierce, strong love for us, I didn't perceive parasites as being easily swayed by mere human feelings.

Its jaw dropped open. Apparently this idea wasn't nuts to it. Could they actually be right? Could it be feeling leftover—or even living—emotions from Melanie?

I was tired of asking _myself_ this question. I took Melanie's face in my hands again, and the parasite closed its eyes so to not have to meet mine.

"Won't you tell me?" It shook its head.

Fine. If it wasn't going to speak, I could elicit a response. Not with violence, but a different type of force. One that Melanie had responded to all too well.

As I leaned in toward her, its eyes opened and met mine. I think it realized what I was doing a second before I did, and I heard its breath spike in panic.

I kissed it. I kissed the parasite that had stolen Melanie's body with all the passion I had had for her. This situation was so messed up, so incredibly convoluted, and I needed to straighten it out. Sure, my methods were unorthodox, but noncooperation called for a little experimentation.

Of course, it didn't help matters that I forgot just _whom_ I was kissing. Her scent, her breath, the familiar feel of her lips...it was like she'd never left.

Her hand reached up, moved to touch my face, while her other arm moved back suddenly.

And connected painfully with my face—her fist smacked into my jaw without warning.

She'd _punched_ me!

Not she. _It._ The parasite. This wasn't Melanie.

I pulled away from it, slightly breathless. It hadn't punched me hard, but hard enough to get its point across. What _had_ been its point? It had seemed to respond...positively. Now it was staring at me, its expression—

Its expression mirrored _mine._ Shocked. Horrified. It grabbed its own hand, the one that had punched me, trying to flatten its fist, trying to keep it still. The way it looked at its arm, at me, was like _it_ was as surprised as _I_ was.

As if _it_ hadn't done it. As if...

Someone else did.

The second that thought entered my mind, it suddenly spun around, clearly looking for an escape. Instead of sprinting away down the tunnel, though, it dove back into the storage hole, looking for the refuge it had known its first week here.

Unfortunately, the hole wasn't empty anymore. Boxes were packed in the round bubble space, leaving no room for a grown person to fit in there. I reached for her, grabbed at her foot, not wanting her to hurt herself.

The parasite wrenched its leg from my grasp, dislodging a box onto my arm. Somehow it wriggled through the boxes, through all the sharp corners and cellophane, to where it was out of my sight. I could hear it, though. It was crying again.

Stunned by its wild reaction, I pushed the box off my arm. I was going to have a bruise for sure. On my arm and on my face.

What...just...happened?

Her expression—the parasite had been astounded by its own actions. What it had done had happened without its permission, but wasn't just an involuntary, emotional reaction. _It_ hadn't consciously hit me. The _parasite_ didn't try to hurt me.

But if it wasn't the parasite...there was only one answer. Only one other person—one other _conscience_—could have done it.

As the parasite sobbed desperately, I called out to her, calling for the person I'd given up for lost a long time ago.

"Mel?"

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><p><strong>Okay, that's it for now. As always, let me know what you think or if I've messed up!<strong>

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	8. Terminal Illness

**Chapter Eight! This one was...not fun. It was difficult and frustrating and I kept messing up. But now it's done, and I couldn't be happier!**

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><p>She was there. Sitting in that hole, trapped inside a body controlled by a parasite. Melanie. My love.<p>

"Mel?"

There was no answer, just more sobbing from the parasite, the alien who was inexplicably, terribly, wounded by what it had done. By what the human inside its head had done.

Melanie had hit me. Why had she hit me as I kissed her? I was _kissing_ her!

I had been...experimenting. Trying to get an answer from...it.

"You know that was for you, Mel. You _know_ that. Not for h—it. You know I wasn't kissing _it._"

Louder sobs. Why was it so upset? Yes, its body had hit me, but _it_ hadn't done it. Mel had, and it knew that. Did it think I was hurt?

Never mind. Melanie was there. How else would I have been _punched_ by this too-gentle alien? "If you're in there, Mel...I love you. Even if you're not there, even if you can't hear me, I _love _you." It felt so good to say those words, even if the only person who heard them was a parasite.

The parasite had quieted some, had stopped its ragged, gasping sobs. I couldn't even hear it breathing now. It was ignoring me.

I knew enough of—and the parasite knew to imitate—female behavior. Silence meant she needed time alone. She and Mel. Mel and _it. _The parasite and the tenant in its head.

I could give them space. Quietly—with my Indian tread—I left the storage corridor, left behind Melanie's body entangled in boxes.

No sooner than I had turned the corner did I start to doubt. The parasite inside Mel hadn't told me this explicably, yet it had made me believe that Mel was there. Given its tight-lipped nature, such wordless displays of the truths it wanted us to believe seemed in character. It stayed quiet, performing with its body.

Yet...when I'd heard it with others—with Ian in the tunnel, with everyone in the kitchen that first night, with Jamie—it talked just fine. Maybe it knew words wouldn't be enough for me.

But its _face_...it had looked so shocked. No one was _that_ good an actor.

When I reached the big garden, unable to sift through my thoughts once again, I saw that Ian had prepared a welcoming party for me. He was glowering at me. Jeb, one hand on the gun on his belt, watched me approach with narrow eyes. Jamie's eyes were wide, searching.

"Where is she?" Ian demanded.

"She's fine," I told them all wearily. "She just wanted to be alone. I think."

"Can I go see her?" Jamie asked. "Where is she?"

"At the hole," I started, before Jeb broke in.

"No, kid, leave her alone. She needs space sometimes."

Jamie looked up at me. "Is she okay? Jared? What'd she say?"

"Well, she—" I half-chuckled as realized the parasite hadn't ever said a single word to me. "Not much. Mel was the one to—"

_"Mel?"_ Jamie repeated incredulously. "You mean you...believe her?"

I _wanted_ to say yes. I wanted to make the kid happy, and to accept something that I so wanted to be true. "I...sort of." The part of me still latched on to Mel wanted to believe that she could be there, that she could've broken out and hit me. But the rational part of me argued that it was too good to be true. That the parasite was still lying somehow.

A sudden, alarming thought struck me. "Jeb...Kyle's been sleeping all day. He could be looking for...her, and she's alone."

"I got it," Jeb said, starting toward the sleeping halls. "I'll take care of 'im."

Jamie started off as well, strolling a little too casually back the way I'd come.

"Jamie," Jeb said without turning around. "Leave her be."

The kid's shoulders slumped. Obviously he'd been trying to sneak off to see Melanie's body. "I will," he mumbled, casting a longing glance back at me, then continuing on his way.

It must have almost been dinner time, from the orange light coming through the ceiling. I was starving. But as I started toward the dining hall, Ian stepped closer to me. Earlier he had looked as exhausted as I felt, but now he looked wide awake. And angry. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl. "Did you hurt her? Wanda?"

_"No,"_ I emphasized, aggravated. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"I—" he started, then broke off. He must have realized it _should_ mean nothing to him.

I gave him a long, hard glare. "Don't get too involved. This is _my_ problem."

"Oh, sure," Ian said acerbically. "You're gone for a few weeks, and no one even _looks_ at her funny anymore. You come back...she has to fear for her life again."

"Your point?"

He jabbed a finger at me. "She's one of us now. Don't make things difficult for her."

_She's one of us?_ Whether she had a human in her head or not, she was _not_ to be I was too tired to argue. "Whatever you say, O'Shea." He was getting on my nerves. He was far too attached to Melanie's body. Almost possessive. And now that Melanie _could_ be in there...he needed to get unattached. If Melanie was in there, _I'd_ take care of her. If she wasn't...the parasite needed a different kind of _taking care of._

I grabbed some dinner—it was delicious red meat—and headed to bed early. This time as I passed Kyle and Ian's room, I heard much softer snores from the other brother. Kyle wasn't there; hopefully Jeb was laying down the law for him. He would be furious with me, I realized with a jolt of amusement, for turning traitor once again.

Before I reached my room, I heard the shuffling of someone slowly coming down the dark tunnel. A few seconds' observation revealed it was Walter. The old man, the oldest person here, was laboring away from his sleeping space with slow, uneven steps.

"You okay there?" I asked him.

"Fine," he huffed, a little out of breath. He seemed more tired than usual. Was his sickness getting worse? "I was on my way to—to the kitchen, but I think—I think I might have broken my wrist."

"We need to get you to Doc's," I said, examining the arm he was cradling in the dim light. He nodded, still panting. I took his good arm and slung it carefully over my shoulders, taking some of his weight.

After a minute of walking in silence, he asked me, "Wanda, the—the alien who's here, she's in your woman's body?"

I winced at these words. Even if Melanie was still alive, she was trapped inside with the parasite who controlled her body's every move. "Yeah."

He continued in a thoughtful tone. "My wife was taken. It's been years, but I still think about her. Can't—can't help but think that...if she were to come back...I'd want to keep her."

Yes, I _wanted_ to keep Melanie. I wanted to know that she was in there, and I wanted her to stay with me. Except...if Melanie was there, she was the passenger. Someone else was driving.

When I didn't answer him, Walter kept talking. "Wanda's a sweet girl, Jared. I wouldn't be too hard on her. She's hard enough on herse—"

I heard a sickening _crack_ as he took a step and buckled.

"Whoa there, Walter—"

...

The old man had cancer. I carried him the rest of the way to the hospital, where he described his symptoms to Doc. Doc could barely get the words out to tell him, his face was so pained, so aggrieved that he was going to lose Walter, that he had no means to save him.

Walter took it quite well, almost cheerfully, except that _his_ face was twisted with real, tangible pain. He _had_ broken his wrist, as well as his leg. His bones were so weak, so fragile, that just lying down on a cot snapped a rib.

Doc couldn't do anything to cure Walter or to help ease his pain, and this tortured him. The brandy he hadn't already drunk he began to give to the old man. Soon Walter was as inebriated as Doc had been, staring into space and mumbling incoherently. He gave an occasional moan, and I hoped the spirits were at least dulling his senses.

Despite my exhaustion, I stayed with Doc for a few more hours. Leaving him alone with Walt and his suffering seemed too cruel. Sharon came in around normal bedtime, but of course she didn't stay. If someone was hurting, she was gone.

Sometime during the night, Jeb came in, obviously having heard about Walter. I spoke little to him, due to my sour, preoccupied mood, but I ascertained that he had dealt with Kyle. Jeb had gotten him to promise to leave the parasite alone. If he wouldn't do that, his alternative was to leave the caves, and there was _no_ way he'd do _that_.

Walter looked so pitiful, Doc so miserable, that I couldn't help it. I needed to get away again...though for different reasons. I volunteered to go outside and find some medicine for Walter.

This time, though, I went alone. I didn't need Kyle or anyone convincing me again that the parasite was evil. _I _wanted to decide that.

The raid was uneventful. And unsuccessful. I drove into California, moving constantly, allowing myself very little sleep, searching isolated houses when the inhabiting parasites were out.

My raid routine was methodical. I waited at least half an hour, then went in. Looked first in the bathroom cabinets, then in the kitchen cupboards. Searched the closets, the back corners of every shelf. There actually was a possibility of medications being in these less likely places—I knew from experience that human addicts hid drugs everywhere in their houses. Their addictions did nothing to help them in the end, of course, but their stashes were beyond helpful to us.

I watched the parasites more closely this time I was out. They all led normal lives, such _human_ lives. Couples went to their jobs and came home, happy to see each other and spend time together. They could be kind. They seemed to be able to love. They seemed to be good...good people, except in their attitude toward humans. Because they were parasites. They'd stolen our planet.

How _could_ they really be good? If they were willing to do that?

I kept surveillance on one particular house outside of San Diego for a whole afternoon. These parasites had a child, a boy's body around eight or nine years old. The father's body spent a good hour and a half kicking a soccer ball around the yard with the boy.

Watching the child made this idyllic scene incredibly creepy. The boy's body was younger than Jamie, yet it acted so...mature. Instead of giving his father a high-five for playing well, the boy shook his hand and thanked him politely. When the mother's body called them both inside to eat, the boy volunteered to shower before dinner, and assured his parents he'd be out in time to help set the table.

Of course, the boy wasn't really nine years old. The thing controlling the young body was a parasite just like the boy's parents. The worm inside simply behaved like a son because of the body it was in. Not playing a part, but more...just continuing the role of its body. From the age of the child, the body had probably never had an aware human conscience inside it—just a baby who had now been erased.

But Melanie...could she still be there? Her mind had been alive and aware for twenty years before she was captured—and she knew what was going to happen when she _was_ caught. Could she have not been...erased?

Was the parasite—Wanda—just continuing Melanie's role in our family? Or...could Mel still be there?

The happy, creepy family loaded overnight bags in their car after they ate. From the distant snatches of conversation, I surmised they were going to visit a relative of their bodies. It was so _weird _how they all still acted like family.

My search of that house turned up nothing, as I was half-expecting now. No one had kept anything in their medicine cabinets, no type of painkillers at all, not morphine, not even Ibuprofen. But on my way out, I scooped up the little boy's soccer ball from the yard. We hadn't had a ball to play with since Kyle had quite literally kicked a hole in the one they'd stolen previously.

Melanie used to be good at soccer.

That house was my last before I switched directions and headed back to the caves. I couldn't be out here indefinitely.

Along the way, I made sporadic stops—in different towns than before—and searched some more, unwilling to give up for Walter. Right before I crossed the Arizona border, I visited an upscale neighborhood and struck gold in the darkened house on the block.

Miracle of miracles, there was a small paper bag filled with morphine hidden in the stairwell. This house had probably belonged to a closet addict before the invasion. The parasites who resided in this house had most likely never known it was here.

But there wasn't much. And Walter's illness was terminal—this medicine couldn't just be used to tide him over past the worst. What _would_ we do with it?

The drive back to the caves took me less than a day. Although I was still reluctant to think about _how_ we would use the medicine, I was eager to get back to Doc and Walter, who had surely gotten worse.

However, the parasites had other plans.

I was running late, but I wanted to get back to the caves before morning. I sped down the highway to reach the turnoff in the desert before the stars disappeared.

I drove the Jeep to the cave we used as a garage and parked it in between the windowless white van and the huge moving van we used for big raids. Before I ducked out into the pre-dawn desert with my haul, I noticed a humming. Very low and faint, but growing in volume steadily.

The humming turning into a thrumming, a steady beat of...blades. Helicopter blades.

Someone had a helicopter out in the desert. And the only reason someone would be flying a helicopter around the desert...

Seekers. Looking for us. Here.

What had our parasite done?

...

The helicopter circled the desert all day. I sat in the cave, itching to leave and stewing at the parasite I'd so stupidly let live.

The parasite in Mel's body had to be connected to this Seeker search somehow. There was no other reason they would be looking for us here.

Had it somehow gotten the Seekers to come out here? But there was no way they could have actually made _contact,_ was there?

Maybe it was the Seeker they'd seen earlier, the one in black, the one that Melanie's parasite had acted so frightened of.

Was it still just looking for Mel? Mel's body? If the parasite realized who was in the helicopter...would it seize the chance to betray us?

If it was planning anything devious, hopefully everyone I'd left behind could keep it under control.

Just because Melanie might have been alive inside her body, I realized, didn't mean the parasite inside her body was on our side. It could have been influenced by Melanie to come out here, and then when we captured it, it could have come to its senses, could have started hating us. It had probably been waiting for a chance to escape all along. Just like I'd thought. Why had I stopped thinking that?

I was on pins and needles all day, but the helicopter never landed or seemed to get too close to us. It ran sweeps across the desert, the deafening sounds of the blades diminishing to a hum and crescendoing back to a roar. Each time the noise returned caused a wave of dread in me. Would they all be captured? Jeb, Doc, Walter, _Jamie..._

Finally the sky began to dim, and when the Seekers in the helicopter couldn't see anymore, the ominous sounds dwindled into a continual, blissful silence.

I was leaning back in the seat of the Jeep, like how I'd slept for the past two days. I wanted to wait another hour or so, to be completely sure the Seekers were gone...

The next thing I knew, the sky was dark and the dashboard clock read 4:40. I had slept through the night.

Enraged with myself for losing so much time—who _knew_ what Walter was going through—I sprinted through the desert, reaching the caves in a record forty-five minutes. I wanted to drive the Jeep, but I didn't think such a blatant display of life was wise less than twenty-four hours after Seekers had swept the area.

I used the south entrance to get to Doc and Walter quickly. Before I even reached the big cave, I could hear Walter moaning, whimpering, even letting out soft screams. Doc must have run out of brandy by now, and poor Walt was probably wishing for death—if he was lucid enough to.

The morphine would probably serve best as a euthanasiast.

Walter's whimpering was continuous, unbroken, when I crawled into Doc's hospital. But it was punctuated by a different voice. One that had become steadily more unwelcome and confusing to me.

Melanie. The parasite. Both of them. Sitting on a cot next to Walter, wiping his sweaty forehead, holding his _hand. _Muttering reassurances. "Shh. Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here. Shh, it's okay."

I stood frozen, transfixed, watching the parasite _comfort_ a human. Of all the people to come visit Walter. I only hoped it hadn't seen me crawl in from the outside.

Why was it there?

Doc was snoring lightly. It didn't notice me. There was no one watching it. No one to perform for. It sounded...like it was genuinely sympathetic toward Walter. Why would it care that he was in pain?

Watching the old man suffer was tormenting _me_, and I'd only just arrived. Doc had succumbed to exhaustion staying with him. How long had she been there? All night? Longer?

What was it _doing?_

I could help Walter. Help him stop hurting. "Doc. Doc, wake up," I said quietly. Calmly. I didn't take my eyes off the parasite, and when it heard me speak, it started so violently that its hold on Walter's hand was broken. It spun to look at me, and I worked to keep my face devoid of emotion. _Melanie._

"Gladdie! Don't leave! Don't!" Walter cried. His frail voice was shrill with pain and panic.

Gladdie? Wasn't that Walter's _wife's_ name?

Melanie's body whirled back around to the dying man, murmuring reassurances again. "I'm here, I won't leave. I won't, I promise."

"What's that about?" I inquired of Doc in a low voice. I was truly curious. What had this centipede done to make Walter think she was his long-lost wife?

"She's the best painkiller I've been able to find," Doc said. His face was creased with the reverberations of Walter's suffering. The poor man couldn't bear to see someone hurting and not be able to fix it.

Well, _I_ could fix it. Shaking myself out of my stunned silence, I told him, "Well, I've found you something better than a tame Seeker." I couldn't resist goading it. Of course not. Who was to say that it wasn't a Seeker? I sure wouldn't vouch for it now.

It didn't acknowledge my words. Doc, though, responded excitedly. "You found something!"

I held up my treasure. "Morphine. There's not much. I would've gotten here sooner if the Seeker hadn't pinned me down out there."

Doc ripped open the paper bag, exclaiming, "Jared, you're the miracle man!" He took a small syringe, filled it up. That was already nearly a quarter of what I'd brought.

"Uh, Doc, there really isn't enough for that."

Doc had already injected the medicine into Walter, and the old man had relaxed instantly. "Enough for what? I'm not going to save this for a rainy day, Jared. I'm sure we'll wish we had it again, and too soon, but I'm not going to let Walter scream in agony while I have a way to help him!"

He didn't understand. Sometimes he was too compassionate for practicality. "That's...not what I meant. There's enough to stop the pain for three or four days, that's all. If you give it to him in doses."

"Ah," Doc whispered. His eyes filled with tears as he understood. He hated seeing Walt suffer, but I knew he'd want to do anything but _kill_ the old man. The realization that that was the best course devastated him.

"You can't save him. You can only save him pain, Doc." I felt terrible as I said the words. We'd lost so much of our world, of our species, and now we were killing off our own.

"I know. You're right." He was mourning it already; I could see it in his eyes.

I didn't want to be right. I hated this. Apparently I wasn't the only one, because a second later, I heard Melanie's gasp. Of realization, shock, denial...pain.

The parasite leaned over Walter's head, sniffling slightly, its crying a high, sustained whimper. It was...mourning. Broken. Defenseless. Devastated.

Like Doc. It was hurting so much it looked like Doc.

This wasn't _mandatory_ for the parasite. It had nothing to gain from this show of sadness and affection. That mixture was painful—not to mention difficult—to act out. Was it going into overkill mode just to convince me?

It didn't seem to be aware of me as it grieved Walt's imminent death. Wasn't watching for my reaction. Its behavior seemed...natural.

"Wanda?" Doc inquired of her. She shook her head.

I wanted to go to her, to see if she was all right—she was so sad, so heartbroken...

Wow. I was feeling sympathy for her. Even though, hours, minutes earlier, I'd thought it would have brought the Seeker here. Had my fears been completely unfounded? Now it was showing affection for us humans here. Affection.

It had...surprised me with its performance. But it would be just like a parasite to use a helpless, dying old man to further its scheme.

I had just never seen a parasite who could _do_ all that. Be so terrified when it needed to be. Speak with just the right amount of hesitation. Cry on cue. Act like it cared. And also act like it was a _bad_ liar. How could this unique parasite be the one to be inside Melanie?

If Melanie was there, surely she would be trying to stop the parasite from tricking us.

Unless she knew its intentions were good.

Doc's kind voice interrupted my reflection. "I think you've been here too long. You should take a break." He moved over to it, touching its shoulder lightly in comfort. What I'd wanted to do.

It shook its head again in answer. It did not want to leave. "You're worn out. Go clean up, stretch your legs, eat something," he urged.

"Will Walter be here when I get back?" it asked softly, anguish evident in its voice. Was it real?

Melanie's voice. Melanie. Was Melanie feeling this pain too?

"Do you want that?"

"I'd like a chance to say goodbye. He's my friend."

Was that what it was feeling? Friendship, sympathy? Humanity?

It wasn't human, though. It was a parasite. A hand in the puppet of a human body. My human love, in this case. And the bodies closest to us had always been the ones used to manipulate us.

But this one just _seemed_ different. Mel was there, wasn't she? The parasite inside her couldn't be evil. How could it be? It was as altruistic as any human—even more than most. It equaled Doc in compassion. Or could appear to.

Had it come here with good intentions? Trying to do a good thing? It must not have realized it wasn't doing me a favor.

Doc touched Melanie's arm again. "I know, Wanda, I know. Me too. I'm in no hurry. You get some air and then come back. Walter will be sleeping for a while."

It nodded and finally released Walter, walking away with stiff steps on obviously numb legs.

I never took my eyes off that body. How complex a creature it had to be, to be an alien by essence, taking over a human body, and still carrying a human around in it. How confusing the situation must be. I would have felt sorry for it, if I was more objective about this body.

I felt sorrier for the human.

_Melanie._

As if in response to my thought, it turned to steal a glance at me before it turned the corner. Its silver eyes, still full of tears, shone dimly in the morning light.

_Ouch._ I felt the pang when our eyes met, but didn't let it show on my face. I wouldn't let it see how much its presence disturbed me, muddled my thoughts, twisted them up with memories so that I couldn't remember who this person was. Couldn't discern this unnaturally kind parasite with the human woman I had loved so much. They were not the same person.

I wanted Melanie back. And I could never have her.

Melanie's body turned quickly and made its way out of the hospital. Away from the dying old man, away from my dark thoughts.

Doc slumped against the desk once the parasite had left. He stared at Walter, sleeping peacefully, then glanced at me again, gratitude written on his face.

"You don't have to thank me," I told him, before he could say it. "It was my pleasure." More or less. Helping Doc and Walter was pleasure enough.

"I'm so glad Wanda left," he said, bringing up the topic I'd thought we could avoid, now that she was gone. "It was hurting her to be here, even though she'd never admit it."

"How long was she—it—here?"

"Almost two days. He mistook her for Gladys, and she...she couldn't bring herself to leave him."

"Wow," I murmured. Had I really misjudged the parasite's character that badly? Would it have really cared enough about Walter, a _human,_ to stay with him and his pain that long? While I was holed up outside, hating it, abusing it in my mind?

Doc looked at me tiredly. He searched my face, and I was careful to not let my expression give anything away. What I was thinking about the parasite. The turmoil Melanie's disputable half-existence caused me. How much pain I was in.

We sat in silence for a while. Doc was watching Walter sleep. Though my eyes were turned in the same direction, I barely saw the old man. I was still preoccupied by the strange parasite who was occupying Melanie's body.

What was it doing? How long was this stint going to last? The parasite couldn't wait for the rest of its life to turn us in.

I didn't get it. Either the parasite had no plan in place at all, or its schemes were so vast that none of us could see the ends of its confusing actions.

If it _had_ planned all this out, it would have had to leave a lot of things up to chance, too many to make the plan a good one. But if it had no plan...was it just stupid enough to think it could waltz in here and hand us over to Seekers? Or...did it really want to be here? To stay with us?

That was beyond weird. Too weird, too..._alien_ to be true.

I focused again on the sleeping old man in front of me. How long until he awoke? How long until we had to kill him?

As much as I wanted to concentrate on Walter's piteous situation, my mind kept wandering back to Melanie. Her errant body.

The dual feeling of hatred and protectiveness that I'd felt for it since it had arrived had somehow melted away. Well, not _away,_ but more had turned into something...more confusing. A mixture of resentment and distrust, smashed up with a reluctant admiration of its resilience, all topped off with my lingering feelings for Mel.

I was glad of the change, I supposed. Hating Melanie's body had been very taxing, even though I hadn't realized it. Not that my feelings toward it now were easier to bear; I didn't understand the alien at all. I hated not understanding something.

The parasite inside Melanie seemed to have feelings of its own. Whenever I'd seen it with Jamie, it had seemed...to care for him. I had thought that was a ploy to gain his trust, and that still seemed like the most likely option.

Yet it had defended Jamie. Put itself between me and the kid. Opting for me to hurt _it_ rather than him. A spy, an infiltrator, would stay as far away from the action as possible. But it had thrust itself right into the thick of our fight—even though I never would've _fought_ Jamie—because it knew it was the source of conflict.

It had done the same thing to _me._ That first night. With Kyle. Thrust itself right into the action, saying,_ "Leave him alone, I'm what you want."_ Something like that.

At least it knew that it didn't deserve to be here. That it shouldn't be in our little human world. How could it be..._conflicted_ about intruding here? It wanted to turn us in, didn't it? Unless...

Unless what Jamie said was true. That it...loved us.

Jamie was a naturally affectionate person. Having been on the run since he was six years old, he now latched securely onto anyone who showed him kindness. That would've been fine, except now the one showing him kindness was...a parasite. Someone dangerous. He couldn't afford to trust one of them, couldn't afford to believe that it had human feelings.

I wasn't so trusting, so accepting. And danger of treachery aside, the parasite was in Mel's body, was keeping me from Mel, if she was in there. I didn't _want_ to like it, nor did I have much reason to. It had hurt me by coming here, was still hurting me. Teasing me, tantalizing me with Melanie.

Footsteps echoed quietly down the hall. Doc and I didn't look up until the parasite entered the room again...in Ian's arms.

Melanie's body looked like it had taken a beating. Its face was bleeding again, on the same side that had been scarred from my attack. Blood trickled down its nose onto its lips, too, and its knees were bloody as well. It was only wearing one shoe.

Ian's face was set. No, it was angry. There was no other way to describe his expression. Something had ticked him off good. And whatever it was had to do with the parasite he carried in his arms.

He set it down on a cot gently, and it gasped quietly in pain. I stared at it, keeping my face blank. I didn't want it to know that I was...concerned about it. Concerned about Melanie.

"What now?" Doc asked, sounding angry too. Angry and exasperated that this of all members of the community would have to get hurt the most.

What _had_ happened to it? How had it injured itself so extensively?

It started to say, "The floor—" but Ian started to speak too: "Kyle—" They each cut off when they heard the other speak.

Kyle? What had Kyle done?

Had _he_ hurt it this way? Tried to do something to it, even after Jeb had told him to leave it alone?

Why had _Ian_ started to say that, not the parasite?

Ian rolled his eyes down at the parasite and began speaking again. With one hand, he was touching its forehead, almost without thinking about it. "The floor crumbled by the first river hole. Kyle fell back and cracked his head on a rock. Wanda saved his worthless life. She says she fell too, when the floor gave." He paused, giving Doc a loaded stare.

I understood what he was trying to say. What the parasite wasn't saying. Kyle had been in the bathing room with it. Alone, by the sound of Ian's account. There was no reason Kyle would be alone with the parasite unless...

Unless he was trying to kill it. Had he tried to drown it? Or...throw her in the boiling river?

I suppressed the shudder that rocked my body. Of horror. And...rage.

Ian was listing all of the parasite's injuries out for Doc. "Something bashed the back of her head pretty good. Her nose is bleeding but not broken, I don't think. She's got some damage to the muscle here—" and he touched its leg. That was why he'd been carrying it. It couldn't walk.

_I _was angry at Kyle now. How had he hurt her in all those ways?

Ian still wasn't finished. "Knees sliced up pretty good, got her face again, but I think maybe I did that, trying to pull Kyle out of the hole." Then he muttered, "Shouldn't have bothered."

The parasite hadn't said a word this whole time. Hadn't contradicted anything Ian had said. Of course, he hadn't actually _said_ that Kyle had caused all those injuries. Why didn't it tell us that? If he'd hurt it, surely it would want someone to know.

Then again, Ian had been the first to try to kill it. And now it ran all over the place with him like that had never happened. It didn't hate _me,_ even though I'd hurt it, wanted to kill it. Being so forgiving would help project its good character.

It wasn't acting mad at Kyle at all, but Ian certainly was. Doc, as mild-tempered as he was, was at least frustrated that Kyle couldn't obey simple orders. And I...I was mad. Kyle had tried to kill Melanie.

The other brother had now taken his crack at Mel's body. Tried to get rid of it.

I wondered why I was angrier at Kyle than I had been at Ian. Perhaps it had been the panic of that first moment that was absent now, letting the realizations and implications sink in. Perhaps it was because Kyle was much more vengeful than his brother. Killing it had probably been Kyle's idea that first time anyway.

But it wasn't just that. It was what I knew about the parasite now. Now there was...a possibility that this wasn't just an alien in a human's body. Melanie was there too—at least, that was what I wanted. So Kyle had tried to kill both of them. Would have, if the floor hadn't buckled.

Doc was gently feeling the parasite's injuries, on its leg, its scraped-up knees. "Anything else?" he inquired, his hand feeling her side.

It gasped, its hand going involuntarily to where Doc was touching. Doc pulled up its shirt.

I couldn't contain my gasp of surprise. Closer to her, Ian echoed me. Her rib cage was bruised. The purple splotch, evidence of some brutal impact, was the size of her hand. The size of a grown man's fist.

"Let me guess," Ian said, his voice tight and furious. "You fell on a rock."

"Good guess."

That was probably the excuse it had given him for its other injuries. But this one could not be explained like that. Kyle had punched her.

"Might have broken a rib, not sure," Doc mused, fingers probing the huge bruise. A whimper escaped through its lips, despite obvious efforts to stay quiet.

"I wish I could give you something for the pain," Doc said to it. He was, again, suffering to see someone hurting.

"Don't worry about that, Doc. I'm okay," it said, slightly breathless. It looked over at the old man lying prone on the other cot, still snoring. "How's Walter? Did he wake up at all?"

After what it had just gone through, it was still more worried about Walter, a human dying of cancer, than itself.

A liar wouldn't do that.

Doc reassured it. "No, it will take him some time to sleep that dose off." He took its arm, testing its joint.

"I'm okay," it said.

It had been assaulted, had saved the man who had just tried to murder it, and it couldn't _walk_. And it still said it was okay.

"You _will _be," Doc promised. "You'll just have to rest for a while. I'll keep an eye on you."

It was staying here, in the hospital. Where it had suffered with Walter, where so many others of its kind had met their deaths. I was glad I hadn't brought any back this time. The risk of keeping prisoners when I was alone was too great.

Doc examined its freshly scraped cheek. The gash on its face hadn't healed very prettily in the first place, and now the wound was open and raw again.

"Not here," Ian murmured. I whipped my head around to glare at him. Had he guessed what I'd been thinking? Of course I hadn't brought any other parasites back. I knew the parasite in Mel would never trust us again if it saw that. Whatever tenuous peace existed with it being here would be broken in an instant. It would think we'd do that to it, too. It would want to escape. I wasn't foolish enough to risk that.

But Ian elaborated in a safer direction. "They're bringing Kyle. I'm not having them in the same room."

"Probably wise," Doc agreed.

I concurred too. Kyle would probably be awake when he came in to be checked out, and he wouldn't be happy to see the parasite being treated.

I wouldn't be happy to see _him,_ either.

"I'll get a place ready for her," Ian said. "I'll need you to keep Kyle here until...until we decide what to do with him."

What was there to decide? What would happen when Kyle's murder attempt was made known? Yes, he'd committed an act of violence, but doubtless many would think he'd done the right thing. Some would even be angry that he'd failed. Only a select few would be bothered by it at all.

"All right. I'll tie him down, if you want," Doc offered.

"If you have to," Ian said. "Is it okay to move her?" His fingers were resting on Melanie's lips, keeping the parasite quiet, or comforted, or something. It bothered me. Why was _he_ the one touching it? That was Mel, too, who'd almost been killed. Melanie was _mine._

"No," the parasite mumbled through Ian's hand. "Walter. I want to be here for Walter."

"You've saved all the lives you can today, Wanda," Ian said. His voice was husky. Of course he too understood Walter would die soon. Mel's parasite didn't seem to be accepting it as easily, though.

"I want to say...to say good—goodbye." Why was it so..._affectionate_ like that?

Ian looked at me. "Can I trust you?"

Was he really asking that? Did he think _I_ would try to kill it, once only Doc was there to protect it? Didn't he know that I knew? About Melanie?

Before I could retort, he continued, "I don't want to leave her here unprotected while I find her a safe place. I don't know if Kyle will be conscious when he arrives. If Jeb shoots him, it will upset her. But you and Doc should be able to handle him. I don't want Doc to be on his own and force Jeb's hand."

"Doc won't be on his own," I promised, my anger showing despite my fierce control. Of course I would protect Melanie's body from Kyle. I always had.

"She's been through a lot in the past couple of days," Ian reminded me. "Remember that."

I nodded. Mel _had_ been through a lot. Walter's ordeal. Kyle's murder attempt. Even if the parasite wasn't admitting anything, it had seen as much pain as Doc had. And Doc had been affected. Mel, too, of course.

"I'll be here," Doc said.

"Okay," Ian said. He stooped over, looking straight in Melanie's—the parasite's—eyes. "I'll be back soon. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not," it said. It almost sounded surprised at the notion.

But what happened next surprised _me._

Ian touched his lips to Melanie's forehead.

He _kissed _the parasite.

I couldn't help myself. I gasped, feeling my jaw drop. The parasite's mouth was open too, as it watched Ian run from the room, probably giddy with triumph.

So not only was Ian fiercely dedicated to protecting this transparently truthful creature...he _was_ attached to it. Just like I'd thought before. Maybe even had feelings for it.

"Well," Doc said. He was as shocked as I was. I heard his unspoken "this is awkward."

How had Ian gone from hating this parasite, wanting to murder it, to being its protector? Being so dedicated to its safety, being an ardent guardian who might actually...feel something for it?

I didn't know which was more confusing, a parasite mimicking Mel's feelings for me, a human, or a human unwittingly developing feelings for one of _them._

Maybe that wasn't so strange. If the parasite wasn't in Mel's body, wasn't a parasite...maybe I could understand. But it _was_ a parasite. As gentle, as kind as it was, it wasn't human.

Melanie was, though. If she was there, Ian wouldn't touch her. He couldn't.

I put these complicated thoughts out of my mind. Right now, in her injured body, Mel was hurt. Probably in pain. "Doc—" I began to ask him to help her somehow, but then Jeb entered the hospital, carrying an unconscious Kyle. He, Wes, Andy, and Aaron struggled to hold him up.

"Stars, but he's heavy."

Melanie was momentarily forgotten as Doc and I helped them ease Kyle onto a cot. He was _still_ knocked out. How hard had he hit his head? Would there be any permanent damage? Vaguely, in a part of my head so removed from reality that this notion seemed plausible, I wondered if the impact had knocked some rationality into his head. Caution. Restraint. Sense. _Something._

Why had the parasite saved him? If he had been trying to kill it, why wouldn't it just...let him fall? _Oops, he's gone. Whew._

"How long has he been out, Wanda?" Doc asked the parasite. He leaned over Kyle, looking in his pupils.

"Um...as long as I've been here, the ten minutes or so it took Ian to carry me here, and then maybe five minutes before that?"

"At least twenty minutes, would you say?"

"Yes. Close to that."

Kyle groaned and coughed suddenly, and I saw that Jeb was pouring water in his face.

"Jeb!" Doc protested.

I had to hide a chuckle. It was pretty funny. Kyle's face screwed up, trying to escape the trickles of water. He spluttered, even stuck his tongue out. "What happened? Where did it go?"

It. The parasite. He was searching for it. I wondered what he remembered, what he would reveal. Would he confess what he'd done? Or would he deny it? Take advantage of the parasite's inexplicable silence?

The parasite's hands tightened into fists. Of course it was frightened. The man who was waking up had just tried to kill it, hadn't he? It was curling up, tensing for some kind of confrontation.

I moved closer to it again, standing between it and Kyle. "S'okay, you're safe. Don't be afraid." I didn't turn around, didn't look down. I wanted to protect Melanie more than _it._

Kyle moaned, leaning forward to feel the back of his head. His gaze met mine, and his countenance darkened. He was angry with me again.

That was fine.

Then he saw the parasite lying on the cot behind me. "Aw, _man!_ It didn't fall!"

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><p><strong>Okay, whew! That's another chapter I'm glad to be done with. I literally had to rewrite half the chapter because I was on the wrong thread with the characters' thoughts. Urgh.<strong>

**As always, let me know what you think, or if you have a comment—especially if it's critical! And...**

**Thanks for reading KylerM.**


	9. Altruism

**Hi! I apologize for not updating for awhile. I can't stand excuses, so I'll just say I haven't been writing as much. Very sorry!**

**Chapter Nine. Read and review, if you wish!**

* * *

><p>Rage coursed through me at Kyle's exclamation. He <em>had<em> wanted to kill the parasite. And Mel. He had tried to kill Mel. He had wanted her to _fall._

I leapt toward Kyle, lunging out to meet his face with my fist. I felt my fingers smash into his right orbital bone, and he slumped back onto the cot. Unconscious again.

My ire wasn't sated yet. Melanie, my love, had almost been lost to the man lying on the cot. Her body, but her conscience, too. He either didn't know she was in there, or he didn't care. My anger probably now rivaled Ian's.

Everyone was stunned into silence. They—Wes, Andy, and Aaron—had all thought I wanted to kill the parasite. Now I was defending it again. I knew I was confusing them. I was confusing myself. Melanie was confusing me.

"Um...medically speaking, I'm not sure that was the most helpful thing for his condition." Doc said, trying to break the tension.

"But _I_ feel better," I countered.

Doc fought a smile, and I knew he understood. "Well, maybe a few more minutes of unconsciousness won't kill him."

Of course not. Kyle's head was like a rock. Thick. Unbreakable. But impenetrable too.

I was rational enough to see that killing the parasite was not only not what I wanted, but not the best solution overall. Of course, I was biased—I wanted to keep Mel around.

Others had completely accepted it with less cause, though, like Ian. And Wes, who moved to stand companionably nearer to Melanie's cot. But Kyle would never understand.

"What happened?" Wes asked softly.

He was talking to the parasite, but I answered. It wouldn't tell him what had happened. "Kyle tried to kill it. Are we really surprised?"

"Did _not,_" the parasite mumbled. It sounded like a petulant child. Like it knew its arguments weren't going to work but it was sticking to its story anyway.

It was almost sticking up for Kyle. Helping him out. "Altruism seems to come more naturally to it than lies," I told Wes. He looked slightly amused, but also annoyed by my implication.

Then the parasite did something completely unexpected. "Are you _trying_ to be annoying?" it snapped. "Because if you are, then be assured, you have succeeded."

I had never heard it speak so forcefully, or even speak that much, voluntarily. And directly to _me._

What had I done to offend it?

"I _am_ female. That 'it' business is really getting on my nerves."

Oh. It was annoyed because I called it..._it._ I had always done that; parasites weren't _hes_ and _shes._ They were _its._ There was no question about that—the parasite was not a human, male or female. It was a sexless worm.

But of course it would _feel_ like a woman. It was inside Mel, _with_ Mel. "Because of the body you wear?" That made me angry. It was wearing Melanie's body, which was not natural. The parasite was an aberration. It wouldn't have been able to speak or move without its stolen body. It didn't belong here, on this planet.

"Because of _me._"

I couldn't believe it was arguing with me. I hadn't thought it could even get angry. Even in the beginning, when we'd all hated it, it was so passive. It was too gentle to hate us back, I knew now. But the way it was acting now...was _human_ behavior. It was...cranky. Irascible. Mel used get like this often.

"By whose definition?" I demanded.

"How about by yours? In my species, I am the one that bears young. Is that not _female_ enough for you?"

Ouch. It had me.

I had never thought about the parasites having their own...categories. They were silver little worms; they all looked the same to me.

I tried for a cynical reply, but a snappy comeback evaded me.

The parasite in Melanie...was a girl? It...bore _young?_ How exactly did their...mating process work?

"That's a story you've never told us," Wes said, voicing the curiosity I would never express. "How does that work?" Then he realized what he was asking—that topic was probably uncomfortable—and blushed. "I mean, I guess you don't have to answer that, if I'm being rude."

The parasite laughed suddenly, its anger already gone. "No, you're not asking anything...inappropriate. We don't have such a complicated..._elaborate_ setup as your species." Then it blushed.

I guessed what it was thinking. Probably remembering Melanie and me...

"Then...?" Wes prompted. He was very curious about this. What else had it told them about? How could he ask all this so easily, that it would answer?

It seemed to resign itself to explaining. "There are only a few of us who are...Mothers. Not Mothers. That's what they call us, but it's just the potential to be one."

"You have that...potential?" I asked. Could this be what it was planning? Instead of bringing living Seekers to our home, had it wanted to come here and...reproduce? Spew new parasites into being to subdue us?

It kept talking. "We're a little like your hives of bees, or your ants. Many, many sexless members of the family, and then the queen..."

"Queen?" Wes said. He looked slightly unnerved now, as if he was wishing he hadn't asked about this.

"Not like that. But there is only one Mother for every five, ten thousand of my kind. Sometimes less. There's no hard and fast rule."

"How many drones?" Wes inquired.

I didn't remember much insect biology. How bees or ants reproduced. Something about drones all fertilizing one queen that would then lay hundreds of eggs...I cringed.

"Oh, no, there aren't drones. No, I told you it's simpler than that." It paused, as if it was waiting for someone to stop it talking. But it persisted. "The Mothers...divide. Every...cell, I guess you could call it, though our structure isn't the same as yours, becomes a new soul. Each new soul has a little of the Mother's memory, a piece of her that remains."

"How many cells? How many young?" Doc chimed in. Of course he would be curious. He had always been strangely interested in the aliens' biology, their advanced science. I supposed it came with being a doctor.

"A million or so," it answered.

Ho-ly cow. A million baby parasites lived inside this one centipede. Sure, it was a girl, a female, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

"When does that happen?" Doc asked. "Is there a catalyst?"

"It's a choice. A voluntary choice. It's the only way we ever willingly choose to die. A trade, for a new generation."

I wondered if I had imagined the way it emphasized the word _willingly._ Had it guessed what we'd done when the raiders and I returned the first time? Did it know what others of its kind had done in order to keep from being taken out?

"You could choose now, to divide your all your cells, just like that?" Doc asked. Even he looked wary now.

"Not quite _just like that,_ but yes."

A voluntary decision to reproduce was the most dangerous catalyst to this strange process. If it wanted, the parasite could destroy us at any time.

"Is it complicated?"

"The decision is. The process is painful."

"Painful?" Doc repeated.

Of course. Like giving birth. Except with our kind, the death of the mother wasn't inevitable.

"Excruciating," the parasite said. "We all remember how it was for our mothers."

Doc looked thoughtful. "I wonder what the evolutionary track would be—to produce a hive society with suiciding queens..."

"Altruism," Wes said, repeating the term I'd used earlier to describe the parasite.

"Yes, that."

They weren't thinking of biological factors, but personality traits. No, not a...personality. That was too shallow, too varying. Altruism, bravery, and selflessness, had to be embedded in the...the _souls'_ nature.

Mel's body closed its eyes, exhausted.

Doc noticed. "Oh, you've slept less than I have, haven't you, Wanda? We should let you get some rest."

"I'm fine," it mumbled, but it didn't move.

Aaron and Andy had been listening to the biology lesson mutely. Aaron muttered, "That's just great. We've got a bloody _queen mother alien_ living with us. She could blow into a million new buggers at any moment."

"Shh," Wes said. Defending it.

"They couldn't hurt you," she whispered. "Without host bodies, they would die quickly."

Aaron closed his eyes in relief, and Andy made a "phew!" motion across his forehead. I was glad, too. Alone, the parasite still wasn't a threat. But I didn't want to give myself completely over to trust. Kindness was easy to feign—the parasites had done it for years, in order to ensnare us to become them.

In most parasites, I'd seen that true kindness only extended to their own kind. This one though, the soul named Wanda, was able to extend her altruism to humans.

Humans like Walter.

He groaned quietly, shifting his body on the cot. "Gladdie?"

She was the first thing he asked for. And the parasite whom he'd mistaken for his wife, despite being on the edge of sleep, rolled over with a groan of its own. "Here." She took his hand.

Andy and Aaron looked shocked, and Aaron looked like he was about to protest—why was it touching him?—but Doc reprimanded them both. "Wanda's given up sleep and peace to help him through the pain. Her hands are bruised from holding his. What have you done for him?"

That shut them up, though they shot each other troubled looks.

Walter was coming around, and he would probably be in even more pain than before. Sure enough, he was whimpering again, not even fully awake.

The time had come.

"Aaron, Andy, Wes, would you, uh...go get Sharon for me, please?" Doc said, his face twisting into a grimace.

"All of us?" Andy asked, uncomprehending.

"Get out," Jeb clarified.

They understood, and they left quickly then. Doc leaned over Melanie's body and spoke in a soothing voice. "Wanda, he's in pain. I can't let him can't let him come all the way around."

Her breathing hitched. "It's better if he doesn't know me. It's better if he thinks Gladdie is here."

Jeb moved to stand close to Walter, who was doomed to die in a minute. He hadn't been lost to an alien inside his body, but to a disease. A measly human sickness. The irony of it pained me.

"Bye, Walt. See you on the other side," Jeb said gruffly.

"You're a good man. You'll be missed," I whispered, standing on the other side of the cot. Beside the parasite.

As Doc opened the morphine again, filled a larger syringe, measuring carefully with his eyes, Walter moaned again. "Gladdie, it hurts."

"Shh," the parasite murmured. "It won't hurt much longer. Doc will make it stop." Her voice broke.

"Gladdie?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"I love you, Gladdie. I've loved you my whole life long."

"I know, Walter. I...I love you too. You know how I love you."

How I wished that voice belonged to Melanie, and she was saying those words to me.

Doc inserted the needle into Walter's arm and depressed the plunger. "Sleep well, friend."

Walt's frail, dying body relaxed. His eyes closed, and his face, contorted with pain, softened.

The parasite didn't let go of his hand. Her breaths were loud and jagged.

She was so sad.

For several minutes, Jeb, Doc, and I just watched it, unable to speak. Its quiet sobs grew in volume, Walt's death sinking in and overpowering it.

"He's gone, Wanda," Doc whispered. His own voice was wavering, too. He swallowed. "He's out of pain." Gently, he separated Walt's dead hand from Melanie's live one, and shifted the parasite so that she was situated comfortably on her own cot. Jeb moved to grab a blanket, a cover for Walter.

The parasite's quiet grief mesmerized me, for some reason. As its body shook with sobs, it moved to hold its side, where Kyle had punched her. She was in pain still.

It was injured. It should have been groaning in pain, not mourning the death of some human whose body it wanted.

Doc moved away from her, rummaged in his desk, coming up with a small syringe. The little bit of morphine that was left filled it almost perfectly.

I wondered briefly what he was going to do with it, until he moved back toward me, toward the cot where the parasite was crying. His gaze on me, he raised the syringe, a questioning look in his eyes. He was...asking my consent to put her out. Because she was hurting.

"Oh, go ahead. You won't be happy otherwise," I told him, sounding unwilling in spite of myself. I knew Doc was trying to help; I knew that Mel's body needed rest to heal, and that staying awake and in pain would do the parasite no good. But part of me wanted her to stay awake. Right now, when I was relatively sure of her goodness, her altruism, I almost...wanted to talk to her. To ask her about Melanie. Maybe she'd be more willing this time.

But now wasn't the best time. Doc took her wrist lightly, injected the medicine into the vein inside her elbow. The parasite's eyes grew heavy quickly and closed.

I stepped away from the cot. Doc leaned over her, feeling her leg. The bruise that wouldn't allow her to walk was huge and ugly. How had Kyle done that to her? Even his huge, hard fist couldn't do that much damage.

"It's not broken, or sprained," Doc mused. "But she probably won't be able to walk for a little while."

"Jared," Jeb grunted. I saw he was trying to move Walter's cot but couldn't keep it level. I hurried forward to help him carry Walt's covered body to a corner.

We'd have a funeral. Tonight, probably, under the cover of darkness, we'd bury the old man outside.

I wondered if the parasite, who had sacrificed itself to care for Walter, would be allowed outside for his memorial. No, I didn't want it dead, I didn't hate it so fiercely, and I thought I had a better grasp of its nature. But I didn't trust it. Not that much. I wasn't about to take risks to destroy the fragile confidence I had in her.

"What happened?" Ian demanded. He'd reentered the hospital without me noticing, and now looked...anxious. As he walked in, I thought he was asking about Walter, his dead, shrouded body, but he stopped at the parasite's cot. He laid a hand on her forehead, touched her cheek lightly.

"There was a little morphine left," Doc explained calmly. "She was in pain, and I didn't want to hurt her checking her out." He was in the process of taping up the rib that Kyle had possibly broken.

Ian looked at his brother, his fury still evident in his expression. "Is he _still_ out?"

"He actually woke up, but Jared gave it to him," Jeb answered. He had gone to stand next to Kyle, carrying his gun over his shoulder. He shot me an amused glance.

"He's got to leave," Ian growled. "He can't stay here."

"That's not up to you," Jeb reminded him. "We'll hold a tribunal. We'll decide then."

"I don't mean all _that,_" Ian said irritably. "Here. In the hospital, with her. Although I'd really _like_ to see him kicked out for good."

"I need them to stay," Doc objected. "They're both hurt."

"Fine, then I'm staying here," Ian declared. "I'll keep her safe from him."

We had two unconscious bodies on our hands, one of which would kill the other when he woke up, and they had to stay in the same room. Keeping this situation peaceful would take careful attention.

I spoke up. "And I'll keep him away from her."

Ian's piercing gaze locked on me. I knew he was thinking about my drastic change in my attitude toward the parasite. How I was protecting it. How I'd just referred to it. How surprising that was to him.

Yes, for the time being, I was willing to give the alien the benefit of the doubt. Willing to keep Melanie safe from Kyle, at least.

I didn't like the parasite any more than Kyle did; I probably liked it even less than he did because it was in Melanie. But the thing had become so entangled in our lives here—in Jamie's life, in mine—that we couldn't just _dispose_ of it. No, I didn't trust it, but we could keep it under control. It was alone.

The only reason I ever would have killed it would have been if it was a danger to us. But how could one parasite, even if it was trying to get us caught, be any harm to us, if we were keeping it prisoner? There was no real reason to kill it—that was the argument from my rational, practical side. My emotional side wanted to keep Melanie around.

Kyle wasn't rational at all. I knew he wasn't thinking about keeping us safe. He just wanted to kill Melanie's body because...he hated it. It was a parasite, and that was enough for him. It was his scapegoat.

I supposed that was the difference between Kyle and me. He was motivated by blind hatred; I used my head. Now he and I, though we'd been briefly allied against the parasite, were on opposite ends of the spectrum again: He wanted it dead, and I, along with Ian, wanted her safe.

Ian.

What was I going to do about him?

If I used my head, Ian was using his heart. Too much of it. I could tell that he was...feeling something for the parasite. More than a protective instinct. Something like...attraction. Which I wouldn't care about, except the parasite was in Mel's body. Mel. Melanie was my partner. Even if Ian and...Wanda liked each other, that was Mel's body. I knew she wouldn't want her body—_herself_—to be subjected to someone else's romantic exploits.

As my thoughts took _that_ troubled turn, Ian settled himself on the floor by the cot on which Melanie's body rested. He crossed his legs, seeming ready for a long wait.

I moved closer to Kyle's cot, where I noticed that his eye was swelling up. I supposed I had done that, punching him. But I couldn't find it in myself to feel sorry. This was _Kyle,_ after all.

He groaned then, moving slowly to feel his face. "I'm gonna kill Jared," he grumbled, starting to sit up. I had to hold back my laughter. I didn't care that he was angry with me. I didn't care so much, his anger was comical now.

"Uh-uh," Jeb said quietly but firmly. He laid a hand lightly on Kyle's shoulder, pressing him back on the cot. "You hit your head pretty hard."

"Where...where's the parasite?"

He still wanted to know where it was. Would he try to kill her if he saw her? I stepped even closer to him, blocking the parasite, lying prone on its own cot, from his view. "What do you remember?"

Kyle looked up at me, his face twisting into an angry snarl. "Why'd you hit me, man?"

"Why'd you try to kill it?" I demanded.

_"Because—"_ he started to say, more loudly, but Jeb cut him off.

"This ain't the time. Kyle, there's gonna be a tribunal. You _will_ have to answer for what you did."

His face settled into a resigned scowl. "Fine." At least he wasn't denying what he'd done. Tried to do.

"You'll stay in here for the time being," Jeb went on. "I guess you can't be trusted to obey the rules."

Kyle's gaze swept the room. In spite of my efforts to obstruct her from him, he saw the parasite anyway. "In _here?_ With _it?!_"

"She did save your life, you know," Ian said from his position on the floor, never looking his brother. "It's _you_ who doesn't deserve to be near _her._"

"Wh—what?" Kyle stuttered, his eyes shooting back to the parasite. "It—what?"

"You were falling through the floor, and she held you up," Ian said. His voice sounded like his jaw was clenched. "So keep your mouth shut."

Kyle mouthed soundlessly, trying to process this revelation. He settled himself back on the cot, putting one hand to the back of his head with a grimace. "Ow."

Doc came over, shone a light in Kyle's eyes again. "I'm sorry your head hurts, but there's not much I can do." His tone was curt, dismissive. He was angry at Kyle, too.

Jeb took a few steps back from the cot and spoke to me in a low voice. "Think you boys can handle him?" He motioned with his head toward Kyle. "I need to get a couple of boys to dig a grave."

"Yeah," I assured him. Kyle was too out of it to make much of an effort to kill Mel's body, and Ian, Doc, and I could handle him if he did try anything. He was still lying face up on the cot, his expression one of incredulity. Ian's statement must have been a bombshell for him. I imagined he was calculating whether that was true or not. That the parasite had saved his life.

"All right, then. See you," Jeb said easily. He strode out of the hospital to round up a crew of diggers. Of course, they wouldn't be going outside until it was dark. They wouldn't bury Walter until nighttime.

Of course, that meant Kyle's trial would have to wait until after the funeral. People here could only deal with one thing at a time. Not a death and a murder attempt.

And _that_ meant I'd have to stay here all day. Babysitting Kyle. Watching out for the parasite.

Guard duty again. Great.

...

I settled back in the old routine with more ease than I expected. It wasn't as hard as last time—my prisoner didn't torture me. Of course, Melanie's body was still here, with a parasite inside of it, but I ignored it as best I could.

Ian remained in the hospital all day, keeping close to the parasite, only getting up to eat the food Jamie brought. Jamie himself looked heartbroken at the sight of Melanie's body unconscious on the cot. I knew his concern wasn't just for Melanie, though—he also loved the parasite.

I didn't. I didn't know what to think of it. Since the beginning, I'd had an extremely cynical opinion of the alien in Melanie's body. Always looking for a reason to distrust it. But its actions now unnerved me. Its kindness was...disturbing. Disturbing for a parasite.

I didn't want to think about it. What it had done. What body it was in. I stayed away from it, closer to Kyle, just near enough to keep him aware of my presence. The big man didn't move much all day, seemed to have too little energy to do anything but eat his food. He spoke little to me, and I to him.

My gaze kept drifting back toward the parasite. My thoughts on it were tangled. Where did its loyalties lie?

An infiltrator would be using this situation to its advantage. If someone had made an attempt on its life, a spy would be demanding that the murderer leave, be killed, asserting that it belonged here more than him.

But the little the parasite had said about Kyle's attempt on her life indicated that that wasn't the case. Its altruism moved it to protect Kyle; despite all the evidence to the contrary, it was pretending Kyle hadn't tried to kill it.

What did that mean? What was it doing?

Maybe it was saving its accusations for the tribunal. Maybe tomorrow, whenever the trial was, it would tell the truth. Maybe even appeal for Kyle's expulsion. Therefore making a claim to belonging here. Maybe then I could get a glimpse of her true motivations.

Whatever happened with the parasite and Kyle could keep for the night, though. As the sky darkened, several of us slipped outside to dig a grave for Walter, including Kyle, Ian, and myself. Kyle still had a headache, but Jeb made him go outside and work; for the moment, he was still one of us. I was just glad to get out of the hospital for at least a little while.

I was tired of thinking about Kyle. I was angry at him, for disobeying Jeb, for not being able to think clearly, for trying to kill the love of my life. Like with the ordeal with the parasite before, I was just ready to get the whole thing over with, however the tribunal even turned out.

Ian's manner was cold toward his brother as we worked, and I knew at the tribunal he was going to ask for Kyle to leave.

Maybe I agreed with him.

As we worked on the grave with Brandt, he gave us some chilling news: A police car—a Seeker—had been driving up and down the road all yesterday. The parasite driving had stopped and gotten out a few times, and it _had_ been the Seeker in black. The one looking for Melanie's body. She had also been the one flying in the helicopter, and though she had given up air patrols, she certainly hadn't given up her search.

Her presence disturbed us, but she didn't seem to have any more of an idea of where to find us. She was just chasing fantasies for now.

It was around midnight when the grave was ready. Everyone woke up and made their way outside, gray-faced and somber.

Doc and I brought Walter out on a stretcher. Ian had his hands full with someone else.

The majority of the caves was opposed to letting the parasite outside. Except perhaps Jamie or Ian, no one trusted it fully, and no one wanted it let out of the caves. However, it was still knocked out from morphine, and Doc had a small bit left. He promised that he'd let her wake up for the funeral, then put her back under to bring her inside. She would be a part of Walt's memorial, but the secret of the caves would be protected.

Ian carried her out and let her rest on a mat while the rest of us milled around the grave. Everyone wanted to get this over with, to get back inside our little haven, but we were unsure of what to do.

This was the first time since I'd come here that we'd lost a human from the caves, and the first time at all that they had a body to bury. The others they'd lost had made the ultimate sacrifice on the outside to protect us.

So the concept of a funeral was a bit foreign here.

After Walter's body was lowered into the grave, Jeb took a handful of dirt from our mound and strode to the edge of the hole. He spoke in a low voice that carried to everyone. "Walter was the strongest person here. He didn't let anything beat him, not the invasion, or losing his wife, or even cancer. He died undefeated." Jeb released the fistful of desert sand, letting it trickle down into the grave.

Slowly, everyone followed suit. One by one each human stepped forward, scooping up a handful of sand, and murmured something they admired or would miss about Walter. Some praised his infectious energy, his constant cheerfulness. Others voiced their respect for his resilience, his selflessness, his understanding. Everyone had a good word for him.

Jamie, next to me, hung back from the group, his head frequently turning away from the grave to the smaller knot of people several yards away.

The parasite wasn't awake yet. Ian was leaned over its still form, glancing anxiously at us as we moved down the line of people. If it didn't wake up soon, we'd be done and it would miss the whole thing.

But as Lily stepped forward to say her piece, I saw Jeb walk toward it out of the corner of my eye. "She comin' around?" he inquired, not loudly enough to disrupt us.

Jamie gasped and darted away from me, ran toward the parasite. "Wanda?" he called.

I gritted my teeth. _Wanda._ What would have happened if she had seen the Seeker driving on the highway? Yes, she seemed to like Jamie, but really, what else was to stop her from seizing her freedom? Surely she didn't like being our prisoner.

Wes stepped up after Lily. He was always hanging around her, I'd noticed. Sometimes I caught him staring at her with almost a look of...longing. Somewhat akin to what I must have looked like when I looked at Melanie's body.

"Walt was always there for everybody. Everyone was his friend."

Trudy was next. "Walter always saw the bright side of things. He could see the bright side of a black hole. I'll miss that."

Geoffrey. "He'll find his Gladys now. He's happier where he is."

I heard quiet footsteps on the sand beside me. I didn't turn to look at who I knew it was, but instead concentrated on Kyle. He stepped up to the edge of the hole and said roughly, "Walter died human. None of us can ask for more than that."

Of course he'd be the one to say that.

It was my turn. I tried to think of the most sincere words I could. "Walter was...good, through and through. Not one of us is his equal."

I dropped my handful of dirt into Walter's grave and stepped backwards.

Jamie had come back to the circle of humans. He was moving past me, ready to speak. I clapped him on the shoulder companionably.

"Walter was brave," Jamie began. "He wasn't afraid to die, he wasn't afraid to live, and...he wasn't afraid to _believe._" He turned and looked past me, at the body I knew was behind me, at the person I didn't want to see. "He made his own decisions, and he made good ones." Jamie threw his dirt down into the hole.

I knew what the kid was saying. I remembered the night I'd come home from the raid, the first time I'd seen the parasite with everyone. Walter had been one of the few who was able to look us, the raiders, in the eye. One of the only humans to not feel ashamed for consorting with the enemy. Jamie was expressing his respect for that.

Andy, on the other side of the grave, picked up one of the shovels, ready to fill the hole back in.

"Wait. Wanda and Ian haven't said anything," Jamie protested.

Heads shot to our end of the line, at the parasite standing only a few feet from me. Well, Ian was carrying it. It couldn't walk still.

Several voices mumbled mutinously—they didn't want the parasite to be a part of this. Kyle didn't say anything, but I heard his teeth grind.

I wasn't sure how I felt.

"Let's have some respect," Jeb said, his voice authoritative. He was so...bossy when it came to Melanie's body. So insistent that it be accepted. It bugged me, for more reasons than one. But, as always when Jeb gave orders, the dissent died down.

"Ian, help me get some sand," the parasite whispered.

Still cradling her gently, Ian knelt on the ground and picked up a handful of dirt. Once the parasite had some too, he straightened up and took his place at the edge of the grave. "Walter was the best and brightest of what was human." He dropped his handful and looked expectantly down at the body in his arms.

Everyone was quiet now. They all wanted to know what the parasite would say. I waited, quite curious myself.

It spoke in a whisper. "There was no hatred in your heart." Speaking directly to Walter. "That you existed is proof that we were wrong. We had no right to take your world from you, Walter. I hope your fairytales are true. I hope you find your Gladdie."

The hiss of the last handful of sand was loud in our silence. We were all still.

Her words were very unexpected.

Andy broke the tension quickly. He strode forward purposefully, scooping piles of earth into the grave with his shovel. Aaron quickly followed suit. People slowly drifted into small groups, breaking up the formal meeting.

What had the parasite just said? _We had no right to take your world from you?_ What did those quiet words mean?

Had she just..._apologized_ for being a parasite?

Ian carried her away, back to the mat she had been resting on, Doc on his heels. I knew from the glances people were throwing her way that everyone was skittish about her still. They were waiting until she was unconscious to head back inside.

"That was deep," Kyle said in a hard, muted voice. He stepped closer to me, still squinting through his swollen right eye. "Wonder how long it took it to come up with that."

I didn't answer him. Did everyone else think those words were...made up? An imposture? Was it just because I'd seen how the parasite had acted toward Walter? Was that why I...I thought it was sincere?

I thought it was being sincere.

I pondered this for a minute.

Ian stood up again, hoisting Melanie's limp body back into his arms. She was out again.

As everyone began making their way back inside, Doc came over to Kyle and me. "Go on in and get some sleep. Jeb's arranged for the tribunal to be at first light."

"All right," Kyle grunted. His face was very deliberately blank and hard. I could tell he was nervous about this. He obviously hadn't expected to get caught in his murder attempt.

This was so twisted. Kyle had tried to kill a parasite, an alien, the very reason we were in hiding, and he was getting in trouble for it. Might even be punished. Sentenced to death by banishment.

Was this alien's life worth more than Kyle's?

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><p><strong>That's it for now. Thanks for taking the time to read and, if you've reviewed, thanks very much for that too!<strong>

**I think I'm past the hardest part. I hope. I will try to update soon!**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	10. In the Present Tense

**Hey there! I'm still here, in case anyone was wondering, and I couldn't be happier about this story! This direction is definitely easier to take. Easier to write. More enjoyable to read...I hope.**

**Well, here's Chapter Ten! Give it a shot, and let me know what you think!**

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><p>I spent the night in the hospital with Kyle. We were alone; Doc wasn't there, and I didn't know where the parasite had gone.<p>

We were quiet most of the night. I didn't have anything to say to him.

I knew Jeb had threatened to make Kyle leave if he wouldn't accept the parasite. But I couldn't believe we were going through with this, holding a tribunal for this incident, the attempt on the parasite's life. It hadn't been an issue in the beginning, when they'd come for her. When Ian had strangled her.

But it _had_ been an outsider the first time. It had been here, what? More than a month now. Not doing anything. Did that clear its name? Was everyone really going to accept it?

I wasn't sure if I wanted to accept it. It was a _parasite._ Parasites were usually dangerous; they wanted us to become them. Even if this one didn't mean us any harm, it was in Mel's body. Coming between me and Mel.

I didn't hate Mel's body. But there was a little silver thing in her neck that, to me, was very problematic.

If Melanie was alive, if the parasite was telling the truth, then I shouldn't hate it. But at the same time...how else_ could _I feel about the one thing that was keeping me from her?

A selfish, petty part of me _wanted_ the parasite to be a mastermind Seeker, so I could have a legitimate reason to hate it, to distrust it. Instead, she was so kind, so _altruistic,_ that she was able to overlook what we'd done to her and want to stay with us.

Why wasn't it easier to hate?

I awoke before the sun rose, while the light from the cracked ceiling was still gray and humorless, like my mood. Like Kyle's mood too. When I shook him awake, his face clouded with the realization of what was about to happen. But he showed no fear—his eyes only hardened in resignation, in anger.

We made our way to the game room, where Jeb and Doc had already arrived. Doc, his head barely a foot from the ceiling, was hanging lights from little hooks drilled in the rock overhead.

Kyle threw himself on the ground in the circle of light formed by the blue lanterns, wrapping his arms around his legs. He didn't look at any of us.

Doc and I moved to stand over him, still guarding him, and Jeb stood just a few paces back, holding his gun ready.

Slowly, in trickles of two or three, people began filing in. There was a good deal of yawning; everyone had had a long night. They settled in a rough semicircle around us, their faces mostly obscured by the long shadows. The little conversation that took place was subdued. The calling of this tribunal was probably a big controversy for a lot of them.

When Jamie came in, he headed straight for Jeb. "Where's Wanda?" he asked.

"She'll still be wakin' up from that last morphine dose, probably," Jeb said. "Ian'll bring her in, if she comes."

"Can I go see her? Where is she?" Jamie was already turning around.

"Nope," Jeb said quickly, taking Jamie's wrist. "You're staying here."

Sharon entered the room, along with her mother. They both came to the front of the room, where Sharon stood close to Doc.

After about ten more minutes, nearly everyone was there. Slow, labored footfalls reached our ears from the hall, and I was reminded of the night I'd found Walter, on his way to the hospital for the last time.

But this time it was the parasite who rounded the corner, limping on its injured leg, while Ian supported some of its weight. He didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it, though, because she winced with every step.

The room went quiet as they made their way into the lamplight. The tension in the room was practically palpable.

Jamie looked pointedly at Jeb, who was still restraining him. Jeb dropped the kid's hand, and Jamie waved in the parasite's direction. I supposed seeing her alive and well was enough for him.

As soon as they'd settled down, Trudy, Geoffrey, and Heath moved over to sit by them. When Wes and Lily came in, they sat next to her too. She had her little allies all gathered nicely.

The last few stragglers entered and took their places on the stone floor. Aaron came in last, saying, "That's everybody. Lucina's staying with her kids. She doesn't want them here; she said to go on without her."

"Okay then," Jeb said, addressing everyone. "Here's how it's gonna work. Straight-up majority vote. As usual, I'll make my own decision if I have a problem with the majority, 'cause this—"

_"Is my house."_ The interjection came from several people. Someone laughed briefly, but the tension in the room didn't ease.

"Who's speaking against Kyle?" Jeb called out.

Ian, seated at the edge of the group, got to his feet. She—Wanda—pulled at his arm, trying to keep him down, but he shook her off. "This is simple enough. My brother was warned. He was not in any doubt about Jeb's ruling on this. Wanda is one of our community—the same rules and protections apply to her as to any of us. Jeb told Kyle point-blank that if he couldn't live with her here, he should move on. Kyle decided to stay. He knew then and he knows now the penalty for murder in this place."

"It's still alive," Kyle grumbled in protest. His voice was surly but not defensive. His remark had not been a plea of his own innocence, but rather one simply to clear up a technicality.

"Which is why I'm not asking for your death. But you can't live here anymore," Ian shot back. "Not if you're a murderer at heart."

I agreed with everything he said. I didn't really want to kick Kyle out, but Ian was right: he was bound and determined to see Melanie's body dead.

I was staying out of this one, though. I knew if I spoke up, I would be correctly accused of my bias. I was just upset about Kyle because of Melanie, they'd say. And they still might be right. I didn't really want to defend the _parasite_ right now.

Everyone weighed Ian's argument. Brandt stood up. "But he could get caught, and we'd have no idea! He'll lead them back here, and we'd have no warning."

I saw the humans, silhouetted in the dim blue light, exchange glances. This made them nervous.

Now it was _Kyle, _the danger that _Kyle_ presented, that made them nervous. Not the alien. How ironic.

"They'll never get me alive," Kyle vowed, glaring at Brandt reproachfully.

Others began to speak. They didn't stand up, so I couldn't see their faces.

"Then it's a death sentence after all."

"You can't guarantee that."

"One at a time," Jeb said. He tightened his grip on the gun.

"I've survived on the outside before," Kyle reminded them. I figured now wasn't a good time to remind him that he had been on the outside with his _brother, _who had undoubtedly been the _reason_ he'd survived.

"It's a risk," someone hissed.

Keeping him _here_ was also a risk. No one at all had questioned Kyle's actions—the only question had been what to do about them. They all knew what he'd done.

"What did Kyle do wrong?" someone else muttered, deliberately keeping his voice indistinguishable. "Nothing."

I fought back my shout of frustration. There were still people here who thought that the parasite ought to be disposed of, that it deserved to die. Even after what they'd seen her do at Walter's funeral.

Why did that make me angry? Why was I indignant about their implications? How was I so different than them, anyway?

Jeb's expression darkened. He stared reprovingly out into the crowd, in the general vicinity of the comment. "My rules."

"She's not one of us."

What?

Had someone really just said that? Did they really think she deserved what Kyle had done to her? Think she didn't belong?

I realized then: I _was_ no different than them. No better. _I_ thought those things, even though I knew I shouldn't. And _that_ was why I was angry.

I couldn't stand there any longer. _"Hey!"_ My voice reverberated around the low-ceilinged cavern, magnifying the sound and making everyone jump.

"Wanda's not on trial here! Does someone have a concrete complaint against her—against Wanda herself? Then ask for another tribunal. But we all know she hasn't harmed anyone here. In fact, she _saved his life._" I stabbed my finger toward Kyle, addressing the thing that no one had brought up. The thing that surely would convince people how wrong they were about her.

When I pointed at him, Kyle's shoulders curled together, making him appear vulnerable, even from the back. Apparently he'd decided that Ian had told him the truth, that she had kept him from falling. And that was bothering him.

I rubbed it in a bit more. "Just seconds after he tried to throw her in the river, she risked her life to keep him from the same painful death. She had to know that if she let him fall, she would be safer here. She saved him anyway." I moved my eyes around the crowd, trying to meet their darkened eyes. No one was contesting me, contradicting the truth of my words. "Would any of you have done the same? Rescue your enemy? He tried to kill her, and yet will she even _speak_ against him?"

I gestured toward her, where she sat listening to me mutely. She had not said a word yet during this tribunal. "_Will_ you speak against him, Wanda?"

It took her a few seconds to answer. Her eyes were wide, shocked. I must have confused her with my vehement outburst—she probably thought I still hated her.

"This...is all a misunderstanding. We both fell when the floor caved in. Nothing happened."

Her voice was the same as the night I'd interrogated her, and she'd lied about Melanie. The same flat, hesitant voice, every sentence almost a question. I could tell she was trying, but there was no conviction in her words, nothing that would convince anyone she was telling the truth.

That couldn't be an act.

Ian began laughing. I couldn't hold back a smile at her pathetic attempt at a falsehood. This was what the souls had to offer in subterfuge. They could not have deliberately sent her to deceive us. "You see, she even tries to lie in his defense."

"_Tries_ being the operative word," Ian chuckled.

Maggie stepped forward beside Kyle. "Who says it's lying? Who can prove that? Who can prove that it's not the truth that sounds so false on its lips?"

Jeb tried to reprimand her, to quiet her cruel words, but she cut him off. "Shut up, Jebediah, I'm speaking. There is no reason for us to be here. No _human_ was attacked. The insidious trespasser offers no complaint. This is a waste of all our time."

"I second that," Sharon called. Her voice was hard.

Doc looked at her with a grimace, a plea in his eyes. Her words bothered him—as they did me. Maggie and Sharon had never been overly congenial, but this display was just downright hateful.

Trudy, seated near Melanie's body, stood up. "We can't just house a murderer—and wait around for him to be successful!"

Maggie's voice was baleful. "_Murder_ is a subjective term. I only consider it murder when something human is killed."

I'd just about had it with her. She was as bad as Kyle. "_Human_ is a subjective term as well, Magnolia. I thought the definition embraced _some_ compassion, some little bit of mercy." Which she lacked.

Maggie opened her mouth to snap back at me, but Sharon spoke up, leaving Maggie and me to stare daggers at each other. "Let's vote. Raise your hand if you think Kyle should be allowed to stay here with no penalty for the...misunderstanding." She looked in that general direction, but I could tell she still couldn't bring herself to look at Melanie's body.

Brandt was the first to raise his hand. More quickly joined him, and I couldn't see their owners. But I saw that no one in the corner with Ian had moved. Except...her.

She was trying to raise her hand, but it looked like Ian was holding her arm down. She was voting for Kyle to _stay._

When Jeb began counting hands, though, he didn't count her. "Ten...fifteen...twenty..." He turned around to us, standing behind him. Sharon and Maggie had their hands in the air, but the rest of us hadn't budged. _I_ hadn't budged.

She didn't deserve it. Whatever Kyle had done to her, whatever hateful feelings he or Maggie or Sharon still harbored toward her, she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to be killed or beaten up, or hated by us.

I had hated her for too long. That alien, that _soul_ in Mel's body, was not here to get us killed. She was not evil. I wasn't going to stand there and let Kyle stay after he'd demonstrated his own incurable ignorance and abhorrence toward her.

"Twenty...three," Jeb finished. "Okay. That's a clear majority."

Jamie glared at the old man. I noticed the other dissenters were watching him, too. They were waiting for him to overrule the majority, I realized.

Jamie left the bright circle of light, walked toward the darkened corner. He wrapped his arm around Melanie's body. "Maybe your souls were right about us. The majority are no better than—"

"Hush!" she told him quietly but forcefully.

Why didn't she want him to say that? I was not pleased with the vote, either. The humans had let me down. Let me down with their capacity for compassion and understanding.

Toward anyone else, any pure human, Kyle's actions would be an atrocity. He'd be deemed a cold-blooded murderer, whether he'd succeeded or not. Unfeeling. _In_human. Why was it any different because this kind, sensitive persona had silver eyes?

Of course, if Melanie wasn't _Wanda,_ wasn't a parasite, he wouldn't have tried to murder her in the first place.

But surely he'd seen—they'd all seen—how defenseless she was. How pure her motivations were. Kyle couldn't be blind to how much Jamie loved her. And Ian, his _brother,_ cared about her too. Why couldn't he realize that just _being_ an alien wasn't enough for a death sentence? _I_ had come to see that.

"Okay," Jeb called everyone back to attention. He glanced down at Kyle, out at the crowd, then turned to look at me.

I stared back, trying to communicate my opinion. Surely he of all people saw that Kyle didn't deserve to stay here. Surely he would make his own decision.

"Okay, I'm inclined to go with the majority on this."

He couldn't be serious! Kyle couldn't go unpunished. "Jeb—" I started to contest his ruling, but he pulled his trademark argument.

"My house, my rules. Never forget that."

He really was crazy. He had been the only one in the beginning to want Melanie's body here. He'd forced everyone to accept it. And now he wanted to let the man who'd tried to kill her stay, when there had been an opportunity to keep things peaceful.

Would he never stop surprising me?

"So you listen to me, Kyle. And you'd better listen, too, I think, Magnolia," Jeb said. "Anyone who tries to hurt Wanda again will not get a tribunal, they will get a burial." And he slapped the rifle into his palm threateningly.

Maggie shifted her fiery expression from me to Jeb. Kyle didn't say a word, but nodded compliantly.

I'd be keeping a very close eye on him.

"Tribunal's over," Jeb said abruptly. "Who's up for a game?"

A game?

Oh. He must have found the ball I'd left in the hospital. I'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Was now really the time, though?

Jeb turned to me, a broad smile stretching his face. I stared back at him, my expression incredulous. We'd just held a trial for a man's life, and now we were going to play soccer. Only Jeb.

I rolled my eyes and turned to leave the game room to retrieve the ball. Fine. If Jeb was going to pretend like nothing had happened, and if Kyle really would behave himself...I could certainly live with this outcome. And I could certainly allow myself to have fun now.

However, I wasn't completely at peace as I made my way down the dark, deserted tunnels. I hadn't had the headspace to think about this before, but now it was tormenting me.

Mel. She was alive inside the alien named _Wanda_. I knew that now, was completely sure. She'd survived, and come back to me. We'd met her with hate, and she stayed quiet. Only made herself known to those who didn't hate her body. Jamie. Jeb.

I'd refused to believe it. Stubbornly, I let my hate for the body-snatching, world-stealing species blind me to the goodness of this one. And the truth of the secret she so wisely protected.

And so I'd hurt her. Melanie, stuck inside her own head.

I'd hated her, I'd beaten her, I'd threatened to kill her on more than one occasion. I'd thought I was doing what was right, but...it was only right because I had so stupidly convinced myself from the very beginning of some very wrong fundamentals.

Melanie was there, and somehow she'd persuaded Wanda to come here for us. I was so hardheaded, so obdurate, that I couldn't see her. Only her body snatcher. But she had been there, inside the body that I'd hurt, physically and emotionally.

She probably hated me by now.

And somehow, she..._Wanda_ didn't. Gentle as she was, she wasn't angry at me, who had hurt her, at Kyle, who'd beaten her, or at Ian, who had _strangled_ her...

Why didn't _she_ hate us?

As I reached the hospital and retrieved the soccer ball from the dark corner by the crawlspace, guilt was belatedly pooling through me. For what I'd done to Melanie. She'd been there the whole time, watching me, unable to speak or move, but probably shouting ineffectually inside her head, every time I expressed my distrust, my disbelief. Shouting abuse at me. I knew this because when Wanda hadn't been able to control herself, Melanie had come out and...abused me.

That was the way Mel was. She could be kind, as with her brother, but she was feisty at heart. When she got angry...it showed. Her wild side was one of the things I loved about her the most. She wasn't afraid to let anyone, especially me, see how they'd made her feel. Being angry with me now, for what I'd done to her, would be perfectly normal for Mel.

I deserved it. I was angry at _myself._

Even if Melanie could somehow come back to me, how could I deserve her? The alien—Wanda—had brought out the worst in me. How could I ever make it up to Mel? I'd hurt her, both of them.

At least I was starting to change, right? Surely that counted for something.

I _was_ changing, despite my fierce, resolute stubbornness, my bias that this body should have been Mel. But even though it wasn't, the thing inside her wasn't a monster. That was good enough for me. Enough for me to defend her against Kyle.

Yes, _her_. I could get over that, too. Most everyone else had begun referring to Wanda as _she_. Because even though she was a centipede, she wasn't trying to hurt us. And _that_ was what we'd hated.

Sure, she was biologically a female, but she was also...almost human. Had human feelings, at least. Was able to be sympathetic, kind. Loving. She loved Jamie. Loved him like Mel did, however mystifying that was.

I thought of what I'd said to Maggie earlier, about being human. My words had been more of a jab at her, implicitly questioning _her_ humanity, but I could look at them in a different light.

Since the invasion, I'd become so focused on the new, inhuman species taking over our planet that everyone who escaped, anyone who hadn't been taken over by a soul, was good, was human. The two had become synonymous, hinged on a biological factor. But as with most things in this world, _human_ was not black and white.

My feelings for Mel aside, Wanda, inside her, was good. Good enough.

I didn't have to _like_ her; she didn't have to be my favorite person. Her being inside Mel, that probably wasn't likely. But I could respect her, treat her decently. If Mel tolerated her, I could be nice to her. To both of them. I felt like I owed Melanie for the way I'd treated her. I didn't want_ her_ to hate me.

Before returning to the game room, I went to find Lucina. She and her boys were in their room reading a book, but they bounced up eagerly when I told them we were playing a game. Lucina smiled at me, glad to see her children so excited.

Isaiah and Freedom reminded me of Jamie, the way he'd been when I'd first met him. He had been younger, so absolutely carefree, and hardly aware of the destruction and chaos around him. He'd lost that innocence when Melanie disappeared. Our journey to these caves had been a grim one, despite the safety we'd found here.

But since Mel's body—Wanda—had come here, he'd seemed to revert back to the old Jamie. He was more mature now than he had been then, but he'd gained back that happy-go-lucky attitude I'd thought was lost.

Since Mel's body had come here. That was why he was happy now. Because of _her._

How could I hate someone who'd made him so happy?

Isaiah jumped around me like a little puppy dog, and I smiled in spite of myself as I slowly raised the ball up higher and higher over his head. His jumps grew in height until his fingers could barely graze my hand.

We'd reached the game room by then, and the humans had divided themselves into teams. Andy and Lily were calling names, picking players, and they quickly added Lucina and the boys to their lineups. Andy had already claimed me for his side.

"Wanda?" Lily called.

I looked around, finding Melanie's body still on the floor. Ian was still beside her.

She shook her head, indicating her bruised leg. Of course she couldn't play soccer; Kyle had crippled her.

"Right," Lily said. "Sorry."

I dropped the ball in between the two teams, and Jamie immediately ran for it. He expertly dribbled it up using only his feet, until he was bouncing it back and forth between his knees.

I joined my team, only feeling slightly disgruntled when I realized Kyle was playing with us. He hardly seemed fazed by the tribunal this morning. His scowl had faded, at least.

I accepted playing with him. He was staying, so we'd all have to deal with him. I'd have to deal.

Ian joined Jamie, who was now passing the ball back and forth with Wes. Someone had walked to the far ends of the room, putting up more blue lanterns as goalposts.

I found myself anticipating the game. I'd always liked soccer; in school, I had enjoyed it even more than football. There were some really good players here, which made the games really fun.

Then I noticed that Mel's body—Wanda—was still sitting on the floor, in the middle of the playing area. She apparently was aware of that and was trying to get up, to scoot out of our way.

Her injured leg wouldn't support her weight though, and so she was crawling gingerly, awkwardly. As she tried to get to her feet, only balancing on one leg, she pitched forward.

I moved toward her, reaching her side just in time to catch her before she fell flat on her face.

She looked up, starting slightly when she saw me. Her face caused the familiar pang when our eyes met, but I swallowed the pain down forcibly. This was _Wanda,_ not just Melanie. Wanda, Jamie's friend. It was how it would always be now, so I might as well get used to it.

"You could have just asked for help," I told her. I kept my voice light. I didn't want her to think I was angry at her.

"I—I should have," she admitted. "I didn't...want to..." She trailed off hesitantly.

"Call attention to yourself?" That seemed reasonable. All she seemed to do here was try to blend in. Be one of us.

Twenty-four hours ago, I would have held that as another strike against her. Proof that she was trying to trick us into letting her stay. Proof that she shouldn't be trusted.

But not today. I was wiser now, or at least trying to be. Today I supported some of her weight and helped her limp. She didn't wince when she walked on her bad leg, so I supposed I was doing all right.

She tried to explain herself. "I didn't want to...make anyone do anything, out of courtesy, that they didn't want to do."

Perhaps she thought that was what I was doing—only being nice because I felt obligated. But I wasn't. Helping her...actually felt sort of good. Somehow, my arm around her waist wasn't painful. Not _as_ painful.

"I don't think Jamie or Ian would _begrudge_ you a helping hand." They hadn't seemed to notice her, though, and I knew she wouldn't ask them. If help wasn't offered, this _soul_ wasn't going to seek it out.

She looked behind her, at Ian and Jamie playing. "But they're having fun. I wouldn't want to interrupt that."

As we watched, Ian bounced the ball off his head, and it hit Wes in the face. They all laughed. I looked back at the girl walking with me, and her face lapsed into a familiar expression. A smile. One Mel had always worn when she looked at Jamie. When she was playing mother. It reminded me of Lucina's expression earlier, seeing her children happy.

"You care about the kid quite a bit," I said. My tone was neutral, but she seemed to understand my statement was more of a question.

"Yes," she said, corroborating my assertion.

I could understand that. Mel loved him so fiercely. I could understand Wanda sharing that emotion. But...Melanie felt nothing toward Ian. She'd never even met him. "And...the man?"

"Ian is...Ian believes me." There was no change in her tone from when she spoke of Jamie. "He watches over me. He can be so very kind...for a human."

"For a human," I repeated, sounding more contemptuous than I'd meant to. "A more important distinction than I'd realized."

I had only just decided to grant this alien her good intentions. Because she was harmless and kind, she seemed worthy of the designation of _human._ But to her, _human_ was the opposite of _kind._ Ian was a distinctive human _because_ of his kindness. She must have only ever seen the terrible side of humans.

Of course she had. It was the only side we'd shown her.

But I could perceive in her tone, when she spoke of him, that Wanda felt nothing for Ian. Nothing...romantic, anyway. She appreciated his kindness and protection, but she obviously didn't feel the same way he did. Maybe she couldn't even see the depth his feelings. Maybe aliens didn't have that...capacity.

But I had seen aliens who _were_ capable of loving. Outside, parasites took partners. Had kids, even. They certainly could love, in that way, but this one didn't.

At least not toward Ian.

As I half-carried her, my arms were around her in a way they hadn't been around this body in a long time. I could feel her. She—Wanda—was...tense. Not uncomfortable, but almost...nervous? She was trying hard to keep her breathing steady, but her breaths were louder than normal. Bigger. When I eased her onto the little shelf by the door, she could hardly meet my eyes.

She loved Jamie. What if she...felt for me too?

"Thank you," she said as I released her. Now that we weren't touching, she seemed marginally more at ease. Up for conversation, even. "Jeb did the right thing, you know."

She was still talking about Kyle. She must have seen how I'd voted. How I felt about him. "I don't agree with that." I had to work now to keep my tone from becoming angry.

"Thank you also...for before. You didn't have to defend me."

I looked into her silver-rimmed eyes. "Every word was the truth." Of course, I hadn't said anything about my personal feelings toward her. And I wasn't going to express them now.

She dropped her gaze. "It's true that I would never do anything to hurt anyone here. Not on purpose." Then she added, hesitantly but sincerely, "I'm sorry that I hurt you when I came here. And Jamie. So sorry."

She was so unlike Mel. Melanie was so forward, so bold and tenacious. This girl...she was meek. Shy and humble. The difference made it easier, I supposed, to differentiate. Not on my emotions, but rationally I could easily say this wasn't the woman I loved.

I sat down beside her, pondering what she'd said. At least she knew what she'd done. She knew us that well. _Mel_ knew us.

"Honestly..." I stopped myself. I was still trying to be nice. I didn't want to tell her that she was _still_ hurting me. Just being here with her was hard. But somewhere, in some little part of my head, I could see how _maybe_ it wasn't her fault. She was trying to help, after all. "The kid is better since you came. I'd sort of forgotten what his laugh sounded like."

He was laughing now, as he played. Even a soccer game hadn't ever made him this happy. Not before.

Jamie _was_ so much happier now, and while knowing that _I_ could never make him that happy was painful, I understood why Wanda made him feel better. The kid needed his sister, and Wanda was good enough to fill that role. Being in Melanie's body was an added bonus. Jamie could have both of them, in a way.

I couldn't. I only wanted Melanie.

"Thank you for telling me that," she breathed. "It's been my...biggest worry. I hoped I hadn't damaged anything permanently."

She _worried_ about him. She really cared how he felt.

"Why?" I asked her. "Why do you love him?" I could tell she did. Not just the way Mel did, though. Melanie wouldn't spend her time worrying about hurting Jamie's feelings. She'd hug him, muss his hair, and tell him to get over it. Wanda was...different.

She bit her lip, and I could see her fear. Of what she was going to say. Afraid of my reaction.

"You can tell me," I said stupidly, like we were children sharing meaningless secrets. "I'm..." I couldn't explain why I wanted to know. "I've..." What? _Thought about it way too much already? Had a revelation? Decided not to hate you?_ All those were meaningless. I couldn't make her feel better with words. My _actions_ had made her afraid of me. I'd hurt her, and Mel. "You _can_ tell me."

Her eyes went to her feet. "In part because...Melanie does."

I'd been expecting that. Mel was trapped, forced to share her feelings with this alien. I knew that already, resented it. I didn't want to hear her spoken of that way.

But...hearing her spoken of in the present tense was...refreshing.

"Remembering him the way she does...that's a powerful thing. And then...when I met him in person..." She shrugged helplessly. "I can't _not_ love him. It's part of my—the very makeup of these cells to love him."

Mel's memories had made her feel for Jamie. If she could fall in love with the _kid_...how did she feel about _me?_ I remembered the first time she'd met _me_ in person. She'd run for me, calling my name, desperate to reach me, touch me. And I had hurt her. Violently rejected her.

I had thought that she was trying to trick me. It made it much worse now that I knew she wasn't.

"I hadn't realized before how much influence a host had on me," she mused. "Maybe it's just human bodies. Maybe it's just Melanie."

Melanie. The strongest emotions Wanda had ever encountered came from my partner. The strongest will, too.

"She talks to you?" I asked. In spite of her will, her resistance, _talking_—speaking to Wanda inside her head—was all she ever could do. She was a prisoner, held captive by Wanda. I tried not to express how much that little fact frustrated me.

"Yes," she said. Her gaze was very fixed. She had to know how Melanie's situation made me feel. She wasn't stupid. At least she was trying to be sensitive about it.

"How often?" _Is there any way I can make an appointment?_

"When she wants to. When she's interested."

"How about today?" I inquired. I wanted to see her so badly—to connect with her. She was here, but invisible. Her body was someone else's.

"Not much," she confessed. She had a strange faraway look in her eye. "She's kind of...mad at me."

Mel mad. That was something I could easily picture, but the response was so unexpected that I laughed. "She's _mad?_ Why?"

"Because of..." She stopped herself and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, she was quieter. "Nothing?"

It was a lie. I could tell. Why would she lie about that? The only things she lied about were truths she thought she needed to protect...

"Oh, Kyle. She wanted him to fry. She would." I laughed again, feeling my affection for her rise. Inside her head or not, she was still very much the same Mel.

Wanda smiled tentatively. "She can be...violent." She said that as if it was a bad thing.

"Really? How?" I wondered, amused.

"She wants me to fight back."

Fight back, whenever someone attacked her. It had happened all too often here. _I_ had done it, more than once.

"But I...I can't do that. I'm not a fighter."

"I can see that," I said softly. Her nonresistance had cost her. She'd paid for her passivity with pain. Very slowly and carefully, I touched her face. The scarred side.

That had been my fault. I had hurt her. I had hurt _Melanie. _My love. I had beaten the girl I _loved._ I could barely get out my "Sorry."

"No," she said. "Anyone would do the same. I know what you must have felt."

We'd hurt her, injured her, numerous times, and her response was to _empathize?_ "You wouldn't—" I began. She couldn't hurt anyone. She couldn't even hold a grudge.

"If I were human, I would," she amended. "Besides, I wasn't thinking of that. I was remembering the Seeker."

I was suddenly anxious. _What about the Seeker?_

She smiled again, reassuringly. "Mel wanted to throttle her. She really hates that Seeker. And I can't...find it in myself to blame her."

The Seeker in black. The one she had run away from. The _annoying_ one.

"She's still searching for you," I informed her. "Looks like she had to return the helicopter, at least."

Her breathing spiked, her hands forming nervous fists. "I didn't used to be afraid of her. I don't know why she scares me so much now. Where is she?" She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Don't worry." I tried not to gauge her reaction based on my feelings of distrust. Suspicion was flooding through me again, and it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I repressed it. "She was just up and down the highway yesterday. She won't find you." _Whether you want it or not._

She nodded, her expression still apprehensive.

I didn't want to talk about the Seeker. It was uncomfortable for both of us. "Can you...can you hear Mel now?" I wanted to talk to her. I'd been starved from her conversation for so long. Even with Wanda as the middleman, I wanted to communicate with my love.

Her eyes were still closed, her expression showing her concentration. "I'm...aware of her. She's listening very hard."

Mel was there. Inches from me. Listening to our conversation. "What's she thinking?" Was she thinking how much she hated me?

Wanda was quiet for a minute. Then she opened her eyes, looked right into mine. "She wants to know what happened to make you...different now. Why do you believe us?"

Wow. That was a tough one. What had _happened?_ How did I get here, talking casually to Melanie's body? Whom I'd, not so long ago, wanted to murder?

"An...accumulation of things. You were so..._kind_ to Walter—I've never seen anyone but Doc be that compassionate." She had shocked me. Finally made me think there was more to this alien than a knack for deceit and a human stuck in its head.

"And you saved Kyle's life, where most of us would have let him fall just to protect ourselves, intended murder aside." She could have so easily pretended it had been an accident. So easily kept herself safe. But she hadn't; Kyle had been _worth saving_ to her. And I refused to let myself think it was because she had some _use_ for him in some huge scheme.

"And then you're such an appalling liar." That had been clear from the beginning. But I had thought it had been some sort of doubly-contrived pretense designed to lead us in circles.

Why would I have gone that far to distrust her? My suspicions sounded silly to _me_ now.

But I knew how tenuous my trust, my assurance, could be. All it had taken was a Seeker, a random search of the desert, to make me think again that she was subversive, underhanded. I had duped myself for so long about her that I wouldn't be surprised to find myself back in that vein.

"I keep trying to see these things as evidence of some grand plot. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and feel that way again." I didn't want to. This feeling now was very relaxing. Knowing that Melanie was alive. Being able to trust that her body wasn't a danger to us. While I wasn't completely happy, I felt better than I had in...a long time.

"But when they started attacking you today...well, I snapped. I could see in _them_ everything that shouldn't have been in me. I realized I already did believe, and that I was just being obstinate—cruel." I was much too stubborn for my own good. "I think I've believed since...well, a little bit since that first night when you put yourself in front of me to _save_ me from Kyle." I laughed, attempting to suppress the memory that, replayed, seemed a perfectly obvious display of her true nature. It made me feel guilty.

"But I'm better at lying than you are. I can even lie to myself."

Wanda winced. "She hopes you won't change your mind. She's afraid you will."

I closed my eyes. "Mel." Would I betray her again? I couldn't leave her with a warning that someday I might turn back against her. "Tell her...that won't happen."

"She hears you."

Did she? "How...straightforward is the connection?"

"She hears what I hear, sees what I see."

"Feels what you feel?" I asked, suddenly disquieted.

"Yes."

She'd felt it. All those times. And it had been my fault. I'd thought my hate was _avenging_ Mel, but instead it was doing nothing but causing her pain and distress.

I could apologize to her, though. If she could hear me, was perfectly aware of me, I could tell her. Moving my fingers back to her scraped face, I looked past the silver, into _Melanie's_ eyes. "You don't know how sorry I am."

A shout echoed through the cavern. "C'mon, Jared! Let's go!"

Kyle was ready to start. He looked excited, not at all angry anymore. Perhaps Jeb had been right to call a game now—the fun did set people at ease.

I stood, not really wanting to leave her. She was watching the others too, a smile on her face. Then suddenly her expression changed. Became distant again, unfocused.

"Are you listening to her now?"

"Yes."

"What's she saying?"

"We're noticing what others think of your...change of heart." She indicated Maggie and Sharon, staring murderously in our direction. When I made eye contact, they turned around together, refusing to acknowledge that they'd been _looking_ at Melanie's body.

If I was stubborn, Sharon and Maggie were immutable. I didn't know why they were so resistant to accepting her—_I_ knew Melanie better than they did—but they were totally hardened.

"Tough nuts."

"Fine, then, we'll win it without you," Kyle shouted, his tone taunting.

"I'm _coming!_" I exclaimed, exasperated. I supposed we could talk later. The prospects of a soccer game were too stimulating to pass up.

My team was skilled. Kyle kept the ball on our side practically the entire game. Andy and Aaron worked well together, kicking the ball back and forth. I was the fastest. And Maggie, as unpleasant as she was, was a mean goalie.

We tried to let everyone on both teams have their fair share of play, but they knew to hand the ball off at critical moments. With my team's expertise, we easily stayed ahead of Lily's team, led by Wes, Ian, and Brandt.

Paige and Trudy slipped out when our team hit twenty and returned with granola bars, passing them out as a late breakfast.

The humans swarmed around the boxes, everyone grabbing as many as they could. I elbowed my way to a full box and took two handfuls. Wanda wouldn't be able to get any of these for herself, not in this riot with her leg.

But when I made my way back to her, both Jamie and Ian had brought her some. "Oh," I muttered.

I could see what Ian was doing. Jamie regarded Wanda as a friend, a sister, but I was smart enough to see Ian had a different agenda.

"Where's all the food?" Kyle yelled.

Wanda didn't need _all_ the granola bars we'd brought her. "Catch," I called to him. When he turned, I threw them at him one by one.

He crossed the room in search of more, and I shoved one of my remaining bars in my mouth.

"Here," Ian said crossly. He handed over some of his bars, not looking at his brother. He was still looking at Melanie's body. "Now go."

Kyle took the food, following his brother's gaze down to Wanda, still seated on the shelf.

Wanda flinched.

I stepped in front of her protectively, sensing Ian doing the same beside me. "You heard him," I said, glowering. I wasn't about to let him hurt or upset her. He'd done enough of that.

"Can I say something first?"

I leveled my gaze, trying convey a negatory response.

"I'm not sorry. I still think it was the right thing to do."

Ian pushed him in the chest. I wanted to do the same thing. He was scaring her, again. I'd caused her enough fear and suffering myself—she'd had plenty.

"Hold on, I'm not done," Kyle argued. He stepped back toward us, toward Wanda.

"Yeah, you are," I said flatly. My hands clenched into fists.

"No, I'm _not._" Holding his hands up in a reconciliatory gesture, Kyle looked down at Wanda. Her eyes were wide, her hand on her injured side.

"I don't think I was wrong, but you did save my life," Kyle said. "I don't know why, but you did. So I figure, a life for a life. I won't kill you. I'll pay the debt that way."

"You stupid idiot," Ian said, irritated.

Kyle smirked. "Who's got the crush on the worm, bro? You gonna call _me_ stupid?"

Ian raised his fists, seeming ready for a fight. I was almost ready to join him.

"I'll tell you why," Wanda said suddenly, her voice piercing. As soon as she spoke, she curled inward timidly, seeming unsure of herself, but she continued. "I didn't let you fall because...because I'm not _like_ you. I'm not saying that I'm not...like humans. Because there are others here who would do the same. There are kind and good people here. People like your brother, and Jeb, and Doc. I'm saying that I'm not like _you,_ personally."

"Ouch," Kyle laughed after a short moment of silence. He turned, ready to return to the game, where I noticed everyone else had been transfixed by our little standoff. "Life for a life," he reiterated as he strode away. Ian shook his head in disbelief.

Three things stood out to me. First of all, Kyle had promised to leave Wanda alone. He'd made that promise before, and he'd broken it. I wasn't ready to trust his word, not at all. I _was_ ready to keep Wanda—and Melanie—safe. I would protect them. For the right reasons this time.

Second, it hadn't escaped my notice that I didn't make Wanda's list of "good people here." She didn't think I would save the life of my enemy. She still didn't trust me completely, didn't know me yet.

I was determined to change that.

The last thing was another thing that Kyle had said. Something that I had already suspected. He'd accused Ian of having a "crush" on Wanda.

Kyle knew Ian better than anyone else did. If he thought Ian had feelings for the alien inside Melanie...he was probably right.

I'd have to keep an eye on Ian, too.

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><p><strong>Tee-hee! I had a <em>lot<em> more fun writing this! Hope it was enjoyable!**

**On a completely random note, did anyone see the Host movie? What'd you think? Let me know your opinions on that or this chapter...or any chapter, for that matter!**

**Thanks for reading KylerM!**


	11. Strange Arrangement of Consciences

**Che! Again, it's been a while since I updated, and I apologize. It's not like I've been super busy or anything, I just haven't been writing.**

**Urgh.**

**Oh, well. Chapter...Eleven?**

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><p>As the games stretched out over the day, we began trading players. Swapping. Bargaining. Lily pulled me to her team, happily relinquishing Brandt and Wes in return.<p>

The tide seemed to turn as soon as I switched sides, but I refused to believe it was because of me. Brandt and Aaron, though they read each other well, each tried to dominate the other. Kyle became frustrated and distracted by them, and Ian and I gained the upper hand together.

After about another hour or so, Andy swapped half a dozen players to get Ian on his team. Ian seemed reluctant, at first, to play with his brother, against whom he was undoubtedly harboring a grudge. However, he couldn't help lapsing into the vibes of brotherly communication that bordered on telepathy.

I couldn't keep the ball—no one could. Kyle and Ian were unstoppable.

Lily bargained to take Aaron and Brandt back, and Andy left his team and came with them. However, it didn't seem to make a difference to Ian and Kyle. We seemed powerless against them. They let us have Wes back, and Maggie as goalie; it didn't matter. They didn't need anyone but each other.

"Okay, okay," Jeb called after seemingly hours of futile struggles against the O'Sheas' brilliance. "I think we all know the winners. Now, I hate to be a party pooper, but there's work waiting. And, to be honest, I'm bushed."

Most everyone began filing out, heading toward the kitchen for lunch. Kyle had caught his brother in a mock fight. I heard him say, "You got the brains, I got the looks. Seems fair." Ian responded by twisting him into a headlock, a smile tugging at his mouth. They seemed to be getting on relatively good terms again, which was comforting.

For the moment, Ian was occupied, and Wanda was still crippled. I made my way toward the mouth of the tunnel, where she'd moved to one side of the rock shelf to make room for those exiting the room.

I approached her quietly. "Hungry?"

Her head snapped up, her face going white for a split second before she shook her head. "I'm not sure why, since I've done nothing but sit here, but I'm just tired."

She needed rest. I could help her get somewhere to sleep. I held out my hand, since she probably couldn't get up with her leg.

Wanda took my hand, still apprehensive. I helped her stand up, where she balanced on her good leg, her injured one hanging limp. She clung to my fingers, though we stood arm's length apart.

"Where to?" I asked her. I didn't know where she'd slept last night after the funeral.

"Ah...I don't really know. I suppose there's still a mat by the hol—uh, in the storage area."

Her mouth was turned down; this prospect did not appeal to her. Nor to me.

I'd made Melanie sleep there. And not just _there_, in the dark, musty corridor—I hadn't even given her a _mat._ I'd made her lie in the cramped round hole, on the hard, curved rock. For a week.

I didn't want her to go back there.

Ian strutted up beside her. "I'll get her where she needs to go." He put his arm under her shoulders. He _was_ supporting her weight helpfully, but the way he looked at her, at me, was...possessive. He was...staking his claim.

I kept my face closed off. His actions were making me angry. He had no right to treat Melanie that way.

"We were just discussing where that would be," I said. My voice was deliberately even, inflectionless. I still didn't want to upset Wanda. "She's tired. Maybe the hospital?"

They shook their heads simultaneously. "I've got a better place for her," Ian said. "Those cots aren't much softer than rock, and she's got a lot of sore spots."

"Why don't you get lunch?" I asked him pointedly. He needed to get his head on straight about this situation. "I'll take her wherever you had planned...?" I let my voice trail off, hoping he would tell me where that was.

Ian laughed once, sarcastically. "I'm fine. And honestly, Jared, Wanda needs a bit more help than a hand. I don't know if you're...comfortable enough with the situation to give her that. You see—" He hoisted her up into his arms.

I didn't let go of her hand.

"She's actually had enough exercise for one day, I think." Ian's expression was serious now. Like all he was doing was helping her. "You go on ahead to the kitchen."

I held his gaze. "I can carry her." I had before.

"Can you?" He held her out to me.

I studied her face. Wanda's. Our conversation today hadn't been too painful, talking about Melanie. Wanda, true to her nature, had forgiven me for abusing her, and Mel hadn't seemed too mad either, from what Wanda had said.

I would always be around to help Mel, to keep her safe from anyone who still wanted to hurt her body. But this—helping her right now—was something else.

Ian was turning it into a game, and I wasn't going to play.

It was the throbbing I felt in her fingers, from my grip, that made me release her hand, although I probably wouldn't have ended up carrying her. This body...it wasn't Mel. As good as Wanda was...I didn't want her. Didn't want to care for her.

Ian was right. I wasn't comfortable enough with her.

But I had to talk to him. To lay down some kind of boundary. "I think I'll tag along. There's something I want to discuss with you."

"Suit yourself," Ian said, heading for exit. He looked smug.

I followed him silently through the tunnels, composing my edict. Ian _would_ leave Wanda alone. This was Mel's body, after all, and if she couldn't speak for herself, I'd speak for her. Say what I knew she'd want to say.

But I didn't want to say it in front of Wanda. I didn't really know what she'd think of this, what I was planning to say. I didn't want to encourage _her_ any. My problem was with Ian right now, anyway.

I had to say something right now, though. I'd said I wanted to discuss something with Ian, and if I didn't start talking, Wanda might get curious. "What's your take on Kyle?" We had passed through the main plaza, into my sleeping corridor. I wondered vaguely where we were going.

Ian snorted without any humor. "He prides himself on being a man of his word. Usually, I would trust a promise from him. In this situation...I'm not letting her out of my sight."

"Good." Whatever he was doing, however he was annoying me, he was my ally in this. Keeping Wanda safe.

"It will be fine, Ian," she said bracingly. "I'm not afraid."

Why wasn't she afraid? People here were trying to kill her—and Mel—all the time.

"You don't have to be," Ian said resolutely. "I promise. No one is ever going to do something like this to you again. You _will_ be safe here."

"Yes, you will," I affirmed. Mel had to be kept safe. I needed her.

"Thanks," she said in a small voice. Every time I spoke to her, she seemed to shrink into herself a little. I intimidated her, like Kyle did. She was _frightened_ by me.

_And she might...love me._

Ian paused at his room, at the red and gray doors. "Would you mind getting that?"

For a moment, I thought he needed to grab something from his room, but then it hit me. I stood still, rooted where I was. "Your room? This is your better place?"

"It's her room now," Ian retorted stubbornly.

He was giving her his _room._ I didn't like that at all. The gesture was chivalrous, yes, but there was a convenient, glaring loophole in this deal that would benefit him far more than just the warm-fuzzies of generosity.

It wasn't just Ian's room, though, that he was giving away. "Where's Kyle staying?"

"With Wes, for now."

"And you?" I dreaded his response.

"I'm not exactly sure."

Would he wait for her to _invite_ him?

I sized him up, trying to decide how to tell him no. How to tell him I didn't want this, and how to convince him that my opinion held any weight in this matter. It was kind of hard.

"Ian, this is—" Wanda began, interrupting our staring contest.

"Oh," Ian said, his tone one of exaggerated, conspicuous realization. "You're _exhausted,_ aren't you? Jared, could you get the door, _please?_"

I yanked the red door aside for him, not deigning to look at him as he entered the room and placed Wanda on his mattress, taking extra care with her injured leg. I stared down the hallway, toward the plaza, listening to their quiet conversation.

"You look tired."

"I shouldn't be—I've done nothing but sleep lately."

"Your body needs sleep to heal. I'll bring you food later. Don't worry about anything."

"Thank you...Ian?"

"Yeah?"

"This is your room. You'll sleep here, of course."

I ground my teeth.

"You...don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

"It's probably a good idea—best way to keep an eye on you. Get some sleep."

"Okay."

Mel would be furious.

After a few seconds, Ian exited his room, shutting the door behind him, a slight smile on his face. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he leaned against the wall for a second, then turned toward me.

"Do you think what happened this morning will influence Aaron or Brandt?"

Two others whom I knew, if they didn't share Kyle's rage, certainly agreed with him about Wanda being here. "You mean Kyle getting a bye?"

"Yeah. They didn't have to..._do_ anything before. Not when it looked so likely that Kyle would do it for them."

"I see your point," I said. "I'll speak to them." I'd tell them they would not only have to answer to Jeb, but to me.

"You think that will be enough?" Ian said. He seemed concerned that my word would have no...authority.

"I've saved both their lives," I pointed out. "They owe me. If I ask them for something, they'll do it."

"You'd bet her _life_ on that?" he pressed.

I thought about that. "We'll...keep an eye on her." No matter what now, I wasn't letting them kill Mel.

He gave a small nod, his gaze returning to the door. After several seconds of silence, he hadn't moved. I asked, "Aren't you going to go eat?"

"I'll think I'll hang out here for a bit," he said nonchalantly. "How about you?"

I had to tell him now, now that Wanda wasn't here, was probably asleep already behind the door.

"What?" Ian said. "Is there something you want to say to me, Jared?"

"The girl in there..." I began.

"Yes?"

Even though I knew Wanda didn't mean us any harm, there was still a...problem with the body she was in. "That body doesn't belong to her."

"Your point?" Ian said impatiently.

He knew what I wanted. "Keep your hands off it."

Ian grinned, a low laugh escaping him. "Jealous, Howe?"

"That's not really the issue." It was more or less true. My motives for saying this to him now were to protect Melanie's body, to do what she couldn't—say _stay away from me._ However, I couldn't deny that I...envied Ian's familiarity with this body. The casual way he touched it, took care of it.

I didn't know how much of his attraction was for Wanda, and how much was for Mel's body. Maybe he wasn't insightful enough to see the difference like I did, having known Mel long before Wanda was inserted into her body. He was almost...ignoring Melanie. He didn't see her as I saw her constantly, didn't respect her body because he thought of it as _Wanda's._

Yes, I wished Wanda wasn't in Melanie, wished Ian would leave both of them alone. But my feelings—my jealousy, my twisted longing—were secondary to Mel, Mel's needs.

Ian didn't buy that. "Really." He raised one eyebrow doubtfully, his voice derisive.

I had to explain, to make him see that this wasn't about me. "Wanda seems to be, more or less, cooperating with Melanie. It sounds like they're almost...on friendly terms. But obviously Wanda's making the decisions. What if it were you? How would you feel if you were Melanie?" I could hardly imagine it myself. "What if you were the one...invaded that way? What if you were trapped and someone else was telling your body what to do? If you couldn't _speak_ for yourself? Wouldn't you want your wishes—as much as they could be known—respected? At the very least, by other humans?"

I broke off, my breath choking. Mel's existence had to be...miserable. Sharing headspace with Wanda, who was obviously very sensitive and sympathetic, wouldn't be too horrible, I supposed, but being trapped, having no choices...I couldn't fathom that.

"Okay, okay," Ian said, trying to pacify me. "I'll keep that in mind."

"What do you mean, you'll _keep that in mind?_" I exclaimed. This wasn't a reminder. It was an ultimatum.

"I mean I'll think about it."

"There's nothing to _think_ about," I said through my teeth. "The body and the person locked inside it belong to _me._"

"You're sure that Melanie still feel the same—" he tried to protest.

"Melanie will always be mine. And I will always be hers." We were exactly right for each other. Alien insertion or not, Mel was still the woman I loved. Of course, Wanda's feelings complicated things a bit, but that would never change how Mel and I felt about each other. I knew she'd do and say these same things if the situation was reversed.

I was defending Melanie, how she'd been wronged in this situation, but Ian's thoughts were elsewhere. "But what if it were you?"

Huh?

"What if you were stuffed in a human body and let loose on this planet, only to find yourself lost among your own kind?"

Oh. He was talking about Wanda. Thinking how _she'd_ been wronged. _Had_ she been wronged?

"What if you were such a good...person that you tried to save the life you'd taken, that you almost died trying to get her back to her family?" He was becoming more animated, more passionate, as he spoke. "What if you _then_ found yourself surrounded by violent aliens who hated you and hurt you and tried to murder you over and _over_ again?" His face was full of...anguish. He must have remembered how he'd hurt her in the beginning. Left those ugly bruises on her neck. Now, of course, he had to feel terrible about it.

I felt bad for hurting Mel. Ian felt bad for hurting...Wanda. He thought that _her_ feelings and desires were just as important as the human's whose body had been invaded.

"What if you just kept doing whatever you could to save and heal those people despite that? Wouldn't you deserve a life, too? Wouldn't you have earned that much?"

I hadn't thought about it that way. I'd realized how good Wanda's intentions were, how she had tried to help by bringing Mel here to us, but I...I resented her nonetheless. When I'd helped her before...it had been for Mel. If there had been a way to have Melanie without Wanda...I would take it. Wanda was not supposed to be here. She was good, but still a body thief.

Ian, with his unbiased perspective on Melanie and the alien inside her, thought Wanda deserved her life. Deserved to stay here, even if in a stolen body. "Point taken?"

Did I agree?

"I—I'll have to think about that one."

"Do that."

He was right; I knew he was. Pragmatically, I could see what Wanda had done here. She was good. I just couldn't look past Melanie. "But still—"

Ian sighed, exasperated. "Don't get worked up. Wanda isn't exactly human, despite the body. She doesn't seem to respond to...physical contact the same way a human would."

"Is that your theory?" I asked. I was amused by his assumption, and gleeful that he was wrong. I had seen her do just that—what he thought she wasn't capable of.

"What's funny?"

"She is quite capable of responding to physical contact. She's human enough for that. Or her body is, anyway." I wasn't so amused anymore. I was remembering that night, when Mel had made herself known to me. Before Melanie punched me...Wanda had responded. Like Mel used to. She had liked it.

Ian apparently didn't. His brow was knitted as he processed what I'd said.

"Jealous, O'Shea?" I needled him.

"Actually...I am. Surprisingly so." He looked at me, slightly confused. "How would you _know_ that?"

He didn't know. She'd never told him what I'd done, after he'd left her to talk to me. "It was...sort of an experiment."

"An _experiment?_" he repeated, his eyes going wide in consternation.

"It didn't go the way I thought it would. Mel punched me." I grinned merrily, remembering the sensation of the moment when I'd realized that the woman I loved could actually be alive, after I'd thought she'd died.

"Melanie...punched...you?"

"It sure wasn't Wanda. You should have seen her face..." I trailed off, noticing _Ian's_ face. It was slowly contorting with anger, indignation. "What?"

He look a step toward me, his fists clenched menacingly.

"Hey, Ian, easy, man!" I held my hands up in defense—he looked like he was about to attack me.

"Did you think for one moment what that must have done to her?" he spat.

"Mel?" I asked, bewildered. I had made Melanie mad when I'd kissed her stolen—or shared—body, but why would Ian have cared about that?

"No, you fool, Wanda!"

What did he mean? "Done to _Wanda?_" I didn't get it. _I_ hadn't hurt Wanda. Melanie had, by punching me with the body they shared. Wanda wasn't a fighter—she didn't like violence. Of course she would be upset by her own arm hurting someone.

"Oh, get out of here," Ian said sharply. His eyes blazed. "Go eat something. Stay away from me for a few hours." He turned on his heel, jerking the door to his room out of his way to enter.

I stood there for a moment, trying to process his words. He thought I'd...hurt Wanda? By kissing her? But I hadn't even been kissing _her_...

Wait.

At the hole...when I'd said I'd been kissing _Mel,_ not _Wanda_...she had cried. Cried more. That I wasn't kissing her had upset her.

She did feel for me.

Urgh. This was so confusing.

I was hungry. Slowly, quietly, I strode from the corridor, through the main plaza, to the kitchen.

Most everyone was still eating, chatting merrily about the game this morning. I accepted an ear of corn from Ruth Ann behind the counter and grabbed a handful of beef jerky, along with a roll.

I went to sit by Jamie, who was talking animatedly to Paige and Andy. He didn't notice me at first, babbling something about...ice? Ice castles and rainbows.

"And they go in between cities across the ice fields. They have guides who take them back and forth all the time. It's like a full-time job. Wanda liked going alone, though. She wasn't a carver there, she—"

"What are you _talking_ about, kid?" I demanded playfully. Andy shot me a grin, but turned quickly back to Jamie. He was engrossed in whatever fanciful story Jamie was telling.

"The Mists Planet," Paige answered me with a smile. "Wanda used to live there."

I had forgotten that Wanda used to tell everyone about other planets. I hadn't cared before, except to think she'd been tricking us somehow.

But apparently everyone here liked the stories. "Will you tell me about it?"

Jamie brightened at my request. I loved seeing him so happy. Things between us had been strained ever since Wanda had come. Funny that now Wanda's stories were helping us mend.

He told me about the Mists Planet and the species that lived there—Bears, they called them, though they were even bigger than bears here, with six arms and opposable thumbs. He described the sharp cold, the ice full of color patterns that we couldn't imagine, and their dreams that could inspire beautiful, glittering ice sculptures.

I was half-listening as I ate; my mind kept wandering back to Wanda herself. Wanda, Melanie, and Ian.

If Wanda loved Jamie because of the way Mel thought of him, then there was no doubt that Mel's memories of _me_ had inspired something in the alien too.

She loved me. In some unsettling way, Wanda, a soul_,_ had developed feelings for me. Not imitations of what Melanie felt, but wholly her own. They were because of Mel, but separate from Mel.

I could see now that this was why she'd come. Jeb had been right all along—Wanda was no Seeker. She had wandered out in the desert, away from her society, to find her body's family, nearly killing herself in the process. There had never been a master plan to bring an army of parasites here to subdue the last pocket of human resistance. Wanda had come to these caves to bring Melanie back to us. And she'd succeeded. Survived the desert and our multiple murder attempts, finally made me see that the human conscience was alive with her, and become part of the community. Probably more than she'd ever hoped to achieve.

I'd always be grateful for that. I'd given Melanie up for lost long before Wanda had come. Being proven wrong...had made me feel hopeful in a way I'd never thought I would again.

Mel and I obviously couldn't _be_ together; Wanda was there and Melanie clearly didn't like her being a part of us. That was okay, I supposed. Just having her here, alive, was better than nothing. Maybe.

But I was absolutely certain that I would _not_ be okay with Ian taking her away.

I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, to hurt me or anything, and to my knowledge Wanda was practically unaware of his attraction for her. But I couldn't help being...jealous.

I was not about to let Melanie's body—especially when Mel was still in it—end up with another guy. Even if Wanda and Ian didn't develop an intimate relationship, seeing the two of them together was wrong. But what could I do about it?

"So, Jared, where's Wanda staying now?" Jamie inquired, interrupting my pensive musings. "Before she...she went to the hospital, she had to sleep at the storage hole because she said there wasn't room anywhere else. Since you came back, she didn't want to intrude. You're not gonna make her sleep down there, are you?"

Wanda's sleeping arrangements. How was I going to handle this? I did not want her sleeping in Ian's room _with_ Ian, even if they were on separate mattresses. Of course I wouldn't make her sleep anywhere near the storage corridor, ever again. But where else could she...well...

I was _not_ playing Ian's game with him, I told myself fiercely. Again, this was for Mel.

Jamie was still waiting for my answer. I quickly formulated my plan. "Actually...I don't think we're being very good hosts. She's used to our room, isn't she? She can move back in with you, like she did before."

It was a win-win. Jamie got to have his friend and his sister back with him, like he'd always had, and I got to keep Ian away—farther away—from Mel. Wanda felt for me and Jamie enough that she'd go along with it, even if she realized what I was doing. Yes, I was playing on her emotions a bit. But it was for the greater good.

"And what about you?" Jamie said. "We can't all fit on one bed."

"Well, the room's big enough for three," I said, calculating hastily. "I can sleep on another mattress. Doesn't Wes have an extra?"

"Oh, _yeah!_" Jamie crowed, his face lighting up. "That'll be great! Can I go tell Wanda now?"

"Yes," I said, a sardonic smile creeping on to my face. "That's a good idea. I think she's in Ian's room!" My voice grew in volume as Jamie bounded away from me, out of the kitchen.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hide my grin. I couldn't stop smiling, though. Mel was, little by little, coming back to me. Just like she'd promised.

Paige and Andy got up, carrying their empty dishes. Their vacated seats were quickly filled by Jeb. The shrewd look on the old man's face told me he had heard my conversation with Jamie.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, kid?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. I was keeping Mel away from Ian. Of course I knew.

"She would bend over backward to make you happy. Even if it made her miserable."

"Who? Wanda?" But I wasn't making her miserable. I was inviting her to come live with us. With Jamie. Surely that was something she wanted.

Jeb looked very serious, very earnest. "Do not get her confused with Melanie, Jared. She can tell, you know."

"Look, I know they're different people, Jeb. I _know._"

"But what you do for them...how much of that is for Wanda?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but I had nothing to say. He'd hit home—I _wasn't_ doing this for Wanda. I was doing it for Mel. And myself. Wanda was just along for the ride in my schemes, and she was astute enough to see that. Did that hurt her feelings?

"She's a person, too. Her own person. Don't forget that," Jeb cautioned.

"Yeah," I muttered. He was right, too, though I didn't want him to be. Wanda wasn't Melanie. I knew that. Before I'd known Wanda at all, that fact had pained me. Cut me deep. Now, knowing Melanie was there too, the pain had eased some.

But I still wanted her back.

Thanks to my ingenious plan to keep Ian at a distance from the body of the girl I loved, I'd now have to wake up every morning and see a stranger looking at me through Melanie's eyes. Now more than ever, I'd be constantly reminded of the fact that my love was a prisoner in her own head. Would that fact get easier or harder to handle if I was in close proximity to Wanda?

I could be nice to her. I _could._

When Jamie returned a few minutes later, bouncing with excitement, telling me that Wanda said yes, Jeb gave me an admonishing glare. I nodded at him, satisfied despite my preoccupations.

_Your move, O'Shea._

...

Wanda moved into my room. She slept on our old mattress with Jamie; I had stolen Wes's extra twin mattress and now slept crammed between the wall and the head of the other mattress.

As I'd predicted, waking up every morning had me constantly correcting myself before I spoke—_Good morning, Wanda_—instead of _Melanie._ I was always very polite to her, perhaps a little formal, but always civil.

Jamie was the most comfortable of us—any time we were all together, he chattered away, talking a lot about Melanie, and sometimes even pulling her into the conversation, through Wanda. Wanda would shoot me an apprehensive glance every time Mel's name was mentioned, though I was somewhat getting used to this strange arrangement of consciences.

I was trying hard to consider Wanda as her own separate person, not just as Mel's body turned into a different awareness. Wanda was good, yes, but the body she wore was just too familiar to me. Every time I spoke to her, said good morning or good night, I'd ask about Mel. Wanda would flush and hesitate, but always answer for Mel.

I got the feeling that I would actually _like_ Wanda as a person, if she wasn't inside Mel. She took wonderful care of Jamie and was so considerate toward everyone. She tried to work hard, to do as much as everyone else, but she was still crippled from Kyle's attack. She could hardly walk anywhere; she was slow and needed help.

Ian appointed himself as her primary aide. He carried her most places, helping her limp around when she wanted to. He brought her food and let her do little chores that didn't require much exertion. I couldn't deny that he took very good care of her. Better care than I would have. Melanie still distracted me.

Jamie confided to me that Melanie didn't like Ian. I could kind of tell that myself—sometimes when Ian would touch Wanda, or take her hand, she would wince, then smile apologetically. I guessed that was Mel, making Wanda's head hurt with the antagonism. Of course, she never punched Ian like she had me. I didn't know what to make of that—I half wished she would.

Melanie was here in the caves, with me, like I'd never imagined would happen. Wanda had brought us a strange, invigorating hope when she came, letting us know that we humans could survive an implantation, even if just as a ghost. But that hope only went so far for me.

Yes, Melanie was alive. I had no future with her, though. The woman I loved was doomed to be carried around in her head for the rest of her life because someone had stolen her body. I contemned that fact. No matter how innocent Wanda was, I still resented her for making a life here for herself in Melanie's body.

If only there was a way I could change that.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry, I realize that was kinda short. The story is in the midst of a drastic tonal change, and I feel like I'm not doing it justice. I <em>will<em> keep working to make it better!**

**Please leave a review if you have any questions, critiques, or comments.**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	12. The Worst Species

**Hello again! Wow, August has really flown by! writing this chapter didn't, though. Another long, difficult one. Ugh.**

**Oh, well. It's done! Read, if you want!**

**Chapter Twelve.**

* * *

><p>After about a month of Wanda living with us, her leg had healed up, and I was able to speak to her normally. At least, I could say her name without stumbling over Mel's.<p>

Still, I didn't _want_ to become accustomed to how things were. Wanda was a nice person, but...I loved _Mel._ I wanted her to be here fully, not teasing me by being alive but nothing more than a voice in someone else's head. I tried to live in the present, to enjoy Jamie's happiness and Wanda's considerate conveyances of Mel's thoughts. But I still thought frequently, wistfully, about getting Melanie back.

I couldn't see a realistic way, though. Wanda was in Melanie to stay. We couldn't get souls out without killing the human. Doc had tried so many times. I wouldn't risk losing Mel to one of his attempts.

So life went on that way. Wanda in Melanie. Jamie happy. Me trying to accept it.

We were working in the field one day, tending to the newly planted wheat, when the hoe I was using broke. From the rust patterns on the blade, it had become weakened from being used too much with the irrigating hoses.

"That's the fifth one," Jeb noted when I showed him. "Might need to get some more before long."

Before long, it became clear that we did indeed need new equipment. Spades, shovels, even the baskets we used for harvesting were getting worn from overuse.

So I organized a small raid party. Trudy and Geoffrey volunteered to go together—they worked well with each other and with me. In fact, I didn't really need anyone else.

But I decided to take Jamie. His enthusiasm for adventure far outstripped his fear of being outside, especially since he wasn't mourning for Melanie anymore. He was ecstatic when I told him, but his thrill at being a part of the raid blinded him to Wanda's anxiety.

Her terror at him going outside was nearly tangible. I could see it in her expression, her eyes, though she said nothing but "Please come back." Although I could tell she was silently begging him to stay, Jamie didn't notice anything amiss.

Not that he didn't miss his new substitute sister. Before we'd even driven to the highway, he remarked from the back of the van, "I wish Wanda was here."

"You know why she can't come," I said tersely.

"I know," Jamie said solemnly. "But I miss her. I wonder what she's doing now."

"She's probably going to _sleep,_ kiddo," Trudy said teasingly. Comfortingly. "I'll bet she's hoping you're safe."

Of course Wanda couldn't come with us. No one would let her outside; there were still people like Kyle who would rather hurt her than allow her to go. And honestly, I didn't trust her fully either, still. Wanda, however inexplicably, loved us humans, but who was to say she didn't miss living in her own world? If given the option, why would she _stay_ with us? Or keep our existence a secret? Our life in the caves was hard, especially for her.

I wondered if we _would_ ever be able to bring Wanda out with us. How on earth would she prove to us—to everyone—that she was completely trustworthy?

I didn't know of any way. It was best that she remained holed up in the caves.

Jamie, Trudy, Geoffrey, and I traveled to Nevada, into the farm country. Civilization was so sparse here. Between the endless rows of crops and dirt roads, we saw almost no one.

Every night, we hit multiple places, stealing from the sheds and barns of the farmhouses. Jamie was best at sneaking in soundlessly and invisibly, but he would have gotten himself caught a thousand times over if I wasn't there to instruct him, to strategize our moves.

I didn't give him a pill. I wasn't sure why I didn't; it was probably a stupid thing to let him go into danger, into enemy territory, without some way to keep the rest of us safe.

But if he got caught, I wasn't letting him die alone. I would go with him, make sure he'd never be able to betray us.

Or would I?

Now that I knew Wanda, knew that Melanie was alive inside her, I knew there was a possibility of any of us doing the same—surviving, protecting the vital information. Would I be able to watch the kid die if there was some chance he wouldn't give us away?

Or would my trust of Wanda, though she would have no active role in it, get us all killed? Not every soul was as good as her. What if I let one of us get caught, hoping we'd be able to do what Mel did, and we failed—because of the false hope she'd given us?

Would Wanda be the death of us after all?

These thoughts rattled around in my brain as the four of us, having found a completely deserted house, filled the van with nonperishable food from the pantry and gardening tools from the shed.

I let Jamie borrow my big hunting knife in order to cut through the ropes that secured the bigger shovels and hoes while I searched the darkened, dirty shelves for anything medicinal or alcoholic. I searched to no avail, as was usually the case.

Geoffrey came up to me, quiet and controlled like always. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, though, and when he spoke, his voice was cold and disciplined. _"There is a car on the road."_

_Jamie!_ was my first thought.

I bit my tongue, keeping the panic from welling up and overtaking my rationale. We could still be okay. It didn't have to be the owners of this place. The car could pass right by. There was no reason to get worked up.

But after just a second, I heard the faint but definite sound of tires on gravel. Whether they were the owners or not, they were coming.

_Idiot!_ I railed at myself, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

Well, I could see one. A pretty obvious one.

But before I could act on my idea, I heard a rustling behind me, an intake of breath, and a thump. And Jamie's stifled but audible cry of pain.

I whirled to see him sprawled on the floor of the shed, one arm stretched out in front of him, the other—the one holding the knife—pinned under his body. His face, though he tried to be determinedly brave, twisted with shock and hurt.

"You okay?" Trudy whispered urgently, kneeling and laying a hand on his arm. She shot me an alarmed look. She too had heard the vehicle, knew we were in trouble.

"Crud," Jamie grunted. "Ow." He shifted, pulling his arm out from under him.

My knife was stained red.

"Your leg?" I asked, taking deep breaths to calm my pounding heart.

"Yeah."

Trudy and Geoffrey both looked to me. Of course. I was the man with the plan. We had to get ourselves out of this muddle right now. I couldn't lose anyone _now,_ especially not Jamie.

My voice was level when I spoke. "Trudy, go outside and get the chloroform. Geoffrey, when she comes back, you and I are going outside." I moved purposefully to the back of the shed, taking some rags from a shelf. "Here, kid, wrap it up. Put pressure on it."

Trudy ducked out, crossing hurriedly through the shadows to the van we'd parked behind the house. I peeked out the crack of the door, watching the car make its way up the long driveway. It was a small car, an older model. I prayed there were few enough that we outnumbered them. That we could overpower them.

Trudy was back in half a minute with our bottle of chloroform. I couldn't tell if she had been noticed by the parasites—there were two of them, I saw, silhouetted in the car as it idled to a stop.

Taking two more cloths, I dampened them with chloroform and handed one to Geoffrey. They had gotten out of their car, speaking in low voices. When they started cautiously toward the shed, I knew they'd seen us—or seen something.

I didn't hesitate. I burst out of the crude building, Geoffrey right behind me. I made my way toward the man; he was older, perhaps in his sixties. The woman beside him was much younger, young enough to be his daughter.

They both reacted with appropriate astonishment, but we didn't give them more than a half second. The bodies slumped against me and Geoffrey, our hands over their faces.

"All good," I called toward the shed, checking in their car to make sure there weren't any more. In my cursory search, I didn't see any cell phone or communicating device. They hadn't gotten a call in to the Seekers. We were safe.

"What do we do with them?" Jamie piped. He was balanced on one leg, leaning against the wall of the toolshed, a bloodied rag pressed to his injury.

I looked down at the body I held in my arms. The man was older but not decrepit; he had the physique of someone who did lots of manual labor, like we all did. And there was a faint, pinkish line on the back of his neck.

"I think we should clear out of here," Trudy said, winding her arm around Jamie, supporting some of his weight. "We've got enough supplies."

"They saw us," I said, my tone not argumentative but quite close. This was dangerous. We couldn't flee the scene lightly.

"Well, they didn't see our _faces,_" Geoffrey said. "It's too dark. We just need to go. It'll be fine."

He was right. We could leave these two sleeping in their house, and no harm would come to us. Yes, they had seen us, but what they'd seen was nothing more than what they could infer from discovering their missing tools or food. The caves were miles and miles away from here. They wouldn't find us.

But...

"I think we need to take them," I said abruptly.

"Jared, no—" Jamie began.

"We _are_ taking them with us," I repeated, more emphatically this time. I put the weight of my leadership in the statement.

I had always hated doing this. Before, doing _this_—what the others considered necessary—had been repulsive to me. I'd loathed the thought of kidnapping bodies, knowing that the body of the woman I loved was out there somewhere. Even then I'd been subconsciously protecting her.

Things had changed now. Now I was the one insisting on it.

"Jared, what is this about?" Trudy said. Her eyes scrutinized my face knowingly.

I looked away. "Geoffrey, would you get some cords, please?"

The older man carefully lowered the sleeping woman to the ground and strode back toward our vehicle. No one said a word as we secured the two bodies and put them in the cargo area of the windowless van. But I could feel Jamie's accusatory glare boring into my back.

We left the parasites' car parked neatly in the driveway, the little house shut up nice and tight. We had hostage souls, and Jamie was hurt. It was time for us to go home.

I hadn't actually planned on taking prisoners this time, but now, thinking about it, I knew it needed to be done. There was no way I'd let Melanie be hurt by Doc's experiments, especially since I knew Wanda wasn't a bad person either. On the other hand, I didn't want to accept that Wanda would have control of Mel's body for the rest of both their lives. There had to be a way to set Mel free.

Wanda wasn't like other parasites. She was a nice sort of person, compassionate and forgiving. I didn't want to hurt her, not really. It was just that...she was wearing a stolen body. Mel's body. It irked me to no end.

Melanie needed that body. It was _hers;_ it had always been hers. How could she exist as a whisper, a ghost, until she really died? What kind of life was that?

There had to be some way. Some secret to make the human whole again, to take out the alien while preserving the body. And so I wanted to bring back bodies for us to try. For Melanie.

If Doc ever figured out how to extract a soul...I'd ask Wanda before we did it. Tell her what was going to happen, at least. Surely she would understand, wouldn't fight back. Maybe she could even tell us what to do with her.

I drove us back to Arizona, asking Jamie periodically how his leg was. He'd cleaned it up using some bottled water, and I could see it was small, not serious. But it had bled a lot—all the way down his pant leg. When we arrived back at the caves, I made him go see Doc immediately instead of helping us unload.

Geoffrey and I carried the unconscious bodies through the low, narrow tunnel to the hospital. Doc was bandaging Jamie's leg up when we returned.

"There you go," Doc said, clapping Jamie's shoulder. "You should probably lie down in here for a while. I'll bring you some food."

"Actually, Doc..." I said, lifting the body I carried. "We have something else for you."

Doc grimaced. It wasn't what I expected him to do. "I...I don't know if that's a good idea. Wanda's here, and—"

"Exactly," I interrupted brusquely. "We have to keep trying."

Trudy had followed us through the tunnel, lugging a crate full of gardening tools. "If Doc doesn't want to do it..."

"I want it done. There's a reason. You all know."

"Jared," Doc nearly snapped. "I have no idea how to do this. There's no point."

I supposed they didn't understand. Before Melanie's body had housed Wanda, the sweet, harmless girl they all knew, Melanie had been her own person. Different than Wanda. They couldn't see it the way I could. And Melanie was _still there_—trapped. Trapped forever, unless we figured out how to remove souls.

"Do it for me, okay?" I said, more persuasively now. I met Doc's eyes, placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you."

Doc dropped his gaze to the floor. He didn't look at me as he nodded jerkily. I knew deep down, he still wanted to know, to understand how to reverse the simple process of an insertion. He moved back around to Jamie, who had settled himself on a cot. "I guess you'll have to go to your room and lie down. You won't want to see this."

Jamie nodded and sat back up. "I'll take him," Trudy said, hurrying to place an arm under his shoulders, helping him limp toward the exit.

There were a few more tools and things I needed to bring in from the van, so I ducked out again while Doc got ready. When I returned, a small group had come from the main caves to welcome us home. I nodded and smiled at them: Travis, Ruth Ann, Violetta. And Kyle.

I gave Kyle a searching glare. I hoped he'd behaved himself in my absence.

Jeb strolled in, ready to greet us. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the bodies. "Jared?" He turned to me for an explanation.

I shrugged. His eyes tightened. He knew why I'd brought them back, and he didn't like the reason. He actually liked Wanda, liked the intrigue of someone who had lived on other planets.

I wouldn't have minded Wanda being here, honestly. But I didn't want her inside Melanie. Not if I could help it.

Doc readied his scalpel, and I looked away. Nearly everyone did—Doc's work could get pretty messy.

Kyle moved to stand next to me. "Anything exciting happen?" he said in a loud whisper.

I found myself smiling as I recounted to episode of how we'd retrieved these two bodies. Kyle would've liked to have been there.

"What about here?" I asked him when I was done. "How's...your brother?"

He rolled his eyes, knowing about whom I was really asking. "It's...fine. I guess. Ian's crazy about it, that's for sure. I dunno what to do about it."

_It._ He still couldn't see her as anything good. Still thought she was a liar, a prevaricating parasite playing on Jamie's emotions. Ian's, too. Mine. Everyone's. I didn't know why he wouldn't observe this whole situation from a logical standpoint rather than one of blind hate. He _had_ to see that Wanda wasn't a threat.

But I wished the situation were different too, although my motivations were much more selfish. At least_ I_ was doing something about it. Raising my eyebrows, I indicated Doc, bent over one of the bodies. Kyle scoffed. "Perfect solution."

Doc grunted in frustration. Steeling myself, I turned to take a look. Doc had apparently tried to slice through the weird attachments of the alien, the ones that fused with the spinal cord, and had gotten them stuck in the human man's neck. The alien was on the table, now a legless centipede, mangled and oozing silver dreck.

The table was speckled with red, human blood.

I shuddered, seeing Kyle's point. This was not really an effective way to get Melanie back.

Would I never be able to rectify this? Was there really no way to remedy the situation?

Would I have to live within reach of Melanie all the time, yet be so far removed from her that I couldn't ever touch her, kiss her, love her, or even _speak_ to her again?

Doc cut into the woman's body, wielding a different instrument this time, some sort of forked tool. I leaned in closer this time, morbidly fascinated by the process.

He exposed the entirety of the parasite's body, its little filaments wrapped around the woman's neck bones. The soul shone with a bizarre, otherworldly radiance amidst all the red.

Doc eased his utensil underneath the worm-thing, tugging gently upward, muttering, "C'mon, c'mon." One of the hairlike appendages broke free, bringing a fresh stream of blood. Encouraged, Doc pulled harder on the thing, clamping it between his finger and thumb.

It wouldn't give any more. In fact, the remaining attachments seemed to tighten, as though it was...fighting back. Resisting. Did it know what was happening?

Doc choked a gasp as his hand suddenly shot up from the table, still gripping the silvery thing. He had ripped the alien from the human's neck. The limp strings dangled, dripping a mixture of red and silver.

I cringed.

Doc stared in horror at what he held in his hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and his fist clenched seemingly involuntarily, crushing the centipede. A gray liquid substance leaked from between his fingers. The parasite was out, and definitely gone.

My gaze returned to the human lying facedown on the operating cot. Her neck was...lacerated. Mutilated beyond repair. She was definitely gone too.

Doc opened his hand, let the thing fall on the table in pieces. He looked up at me, pain evident in his eyes. His face was twisted with a helpless yet culpable despair. "I—told—you," he whispered brokenly. "I told—" And he collapsed, fell to his knees, sobbing quietly.

It was like the last time, except this time we didn't have any brandy for him. His grief, his guilt, just overpowered him.

Jeb moved to stand over Doc, patting his back in a fixed rhythm. His leathery face reflected the dolor that Doc felt—that we all felt.

My heart went out to Doc. Really. Trying to do something that seemed so simple and failing over and over again had to be dispiriting. But I couldn't help but be frustrated that he _did_ fail over and over again. Didn't he understand how important it was to all of us? To me?

Geoffrey sighed and walked slowly toward the exit. Travis, Violetta, and Ruth Ann followed. They'd seen enough.

Kyle and I exchanged a look. Doc was in no condition to clean up his workspace, so we really needed to get it done. As we covered the bodies and moved them to cleaner cots, I felt my anger growing again. Melanie deserved to have her body—her life—to herself. She was here, with me, but I couldn't have her. I should never have gotten my hopes up.

Doc was still crying. Jeb was mumbling comfort, uneasy with his mourning. I heard him say, "S'okay. Don't take it so hard."

I scuffed at a spot of silver on the floor with my shoe, brushing it off the rock. I wanted to tell Doc too that it was okay, that I didn't blame him either, but I found I couldn't. I wouldn't have meant it.

We set the second body on the clean cot, rolling it off the stretcher, then setting the stretcher on the floor. So it was over, again. Doc had failed another time, and Melanie would remain a prisoner. A ghost.

When next I saw Wanda...would I be able to look her in the eye? Still be able to treat her like the human that people regarded her as? Like she almost was? Or would I start hating her again? Did I _want_ to hate her? If so...what did that say about me?

I couldn't stand to think about it right now. I needed to get out of there.

Something broke into my thoughts—a sound, shattering through my eardrums violently. A voice. So loud and high-pitched and...familiar.

Melanie was screaming.

"Wanda!" Doc exclaimed. He scrambled to his feet, the grief lost in alarm.

Wanda. _She_ was screaming.

She was _here._

She had seen what we were doing.

Having entered silently and unobtrusively, she was standing in the entrance, screaming at the top of her lungs. No, she wasn't standing. She was whirling around and around, obviously trying to find a way to escape, but blinded by panic. Her hands were pressed to her head, as though to block out the piercing, horrifying sound traveling unbroken through her lips.

Her face...I had never seen such horror. And fear. Having discovered our operation, her expression resembled one of a caged animal—one that saw its executioner coming. She was stumbling frantically, desperately attempting to run, to avoid the axe.

I found myself running toward her, wanting to do something—stop her, touch her, reassure her that she wasn't next, that we wouldn't experiment on her. I didn't know how to apologize, though. Not in any meaningful way.

She crashed into a wall. The shock of the impact at least stopped her screaming, but she still twisted wildly, trying to get to her feet.

I reached her first. I pinned her arms to the floor, firmly but gently, to stop her flailing. She bucked against my hold, seeming unaware of who I was.

"Doc, help!" I shouted.

"What's wrong with her?" Doc asked, looking unnerved and a little queasy.

"Is it having a fit?" Kyle was watching her with a kind of sick, scientific interest.

I wanted to punch him.

"What did she see?" Jeb asked. His face, usually always so calm, held the same disturbed trepidation that we were all feeling. What was she going to do? What would happen?

"Nothing!" I looked back to check. "Nothing! The bodies were covered!"

I didn't know what had made her realize what was going on. Maybe it was the scalpels, the tools, or perhaps the blood and silver stuff on the table. Maybe she had just seen Doc crying and put it together—what we did whenever we went out. But now she knew, and she was scared, so, so scared, that we were going to try that on her.

"Wanda?" Jeb tried, bending and looking at her face. "Can you hear me?"

She didn't respond to his words.

I was behind her, holding her arms as she struggled to a half-sitting position, still trying to wrench free of me. Her body heaved and jerked violently. I had never seen her fight so much. It was scary.

"Is she conscious?" Doc said, his medical training kicking in.

She heaved again, and then I realized that wasn't her trying to get away—that was an involuntary response to something inside. "I think she's going to throw up."

Jeb moved forward, grabbing her head and holding it still while she vomited.

Her terror was frightening. I never imagined her reaction to be so raw and primal—she was scared senseless. "What do we do, Doc?"

"Hold on to her," Doc ordered. "Don't let her hurt herself."

I tightened my hold on her, restraining her though she still tried to break away from me. If I didn't hold her down, her flailing limbs probably _would_ cause her injury—and Mel.

She choked on the bile in her throat but finally managed to spit some words out. They were unintelligible at first, distorted and gargled, but then I understood. "Get away! You're monsters!" Her exclamation trailed off into a high-pitched jumble. She continued to shriek, perhaps repeating her sentiment, rendered incoherent by her emotions.

"Calm down, Wanda!" I said loudly. "Shh! It's okay!" I said the words without thinking. It was not okay to her, though, and I knew it couldn't be. I just wanted her to stop.

She didn't look at me, but continued thrashing. _"Monster!"_

"She's hysterical," Doc said. His face was grim now. "Hold on." He raised his hand and slapped her across the face, trying to bring her back to herself.

What was Mel feeling in all this?

Someone else gasped and shouted, "What are you _doing?_" I looked behind us, into the tunnel, and saw Ian almost sprinting toward us. His face was a mixture of anxiety, alarm, and anger.

"It's having a seizure or something, Ian," Kyle tried to explain. Though all this, he'd seemed detached, cruelly unconcerned. Did he really still not care about her at all? "Doc's trying to bring it around."

Wanda had stopped fighting. Her body shook, though, with tremors of fear. Her eyes stared at nothing, filled with a kind of awful horror. I didn't know what to say to her.

Then without warning her body slumped, falling back against me. I caught her reflexively, unsure of what to do. What on _earth_ would we do? How could we make her forget what she'd just seen? Forget that we were preparing to pull her out of Melanie once we knew how?

Ian surveyed the room, the shrouded bodies, the bloody instruments. "You idiots," he muttered. "You brainless idiots." He strode over to me and scooped Wanda from the floor into his arms.

"Who're you calling an idiot?" Kyle demanded. "Nobody told it to come in here."

"Not that you let her see, _moron,_ but that there was something _to_ be seen. Jared," he said, turning to me, retribution in his eyes. "Why did you do this?"

I rolled my eyes. I didn't feel like arguing with him—as I knew he was about to—about the necessity of _this._ "You know why."

He made a disgusted noise in his throat and started out of the hospital, down the dark tunnel. I waited a moment but began following him. Doc and Jeb watched me go silently.

I caught up with Ian after just a few paces. I wanted to...to see about Wanda. To make sure Mel was all right. Melanie probably wouldn't have reacted as strongly, but with Wanda's pain being so potent, she had to be feeling some of it. "Is she okay?"

His voice was hard in the blackness. "How would I know?"

He was angry at me for bringing these bodies back—he didn't care about learning the secret anymore. Because all he cared about was her. The girl he wanted was here. Here, in a body. A stolen body, but it didn't matter to him. He probably didn't even care anymore that we humans were going extinct.

But what I had done was for the good of humanity. "I never wanted her to see that. I knew how scared she'd get. But I guess I kind of thought she'd have guessed what we were up to." I shivered, replaying her bone-chilling reaction. "Looks like I was wrong."

"You think that's what happened?" Ian retorted, his tone biting. "That she was scared because Doc was trying to take the other souls out? That she was afraid for herself?"

"You don't?" Of course that was what had happened. She had seen what we were doing. And she was smart enough to know why.

He made a noise of frustration. "No. I don't. As disgusted as I am that you would bring back more...victims for Doc—bring them back now!—as much as that turns my stomach, that's not what upset her."

My silence in the dark tunnel correctly communicated my confusion. Ian went on. "How can you be so blind? Can't you imagine what that must have looked like to her in there?"

He thought she had been...upset by just the scene—not even its implications? But it hadn't looked that bad. The human bodies had been the messiest, and we'd already put blankets over them. "I _know_ we had the bodies covered before—"

Ian cut me off in exasperation. "The _wrong bodies,_ Jared. Oh, I'm sure Wanda would be upset by a human corpse. She's so gentle; violence and death aren't a part of her normal world. But think what the things on that table must have meant to her."

The things on the table...?

The silver things.

Wanda had seen the aliens, the broken centipedes that Doc had slashed and wrenched from the bodies. She had a body like that—a silvery, shiny little worm in Melanie's neck that controlled all Mel's functions.

That must have been like Wanda seeing her _own_ body torn up. _That_ was why she'd been horrified. "Oh" was all I could say.

"Yes." He spoke to me slowly, didactically, as though to a child. "If you or I had walked in on a human vivisection, with torn body parts, with blood splattered on everything, it wouldn't have been as bad for us as it was for her. We'd have seen it all before—even before the invasion, in horror movies, at least. I'd bet she's never been exposed to anything like that in all her lives."

_All_ her lives. Wanda had lived many lives, in many different bodies. Through all of that, she had never seen anything as horrific as what we were used to. She hated violence, had never seen the consequences of brutality. Seeing those little parasitic bodies, things that Doc had so easily crushed, killed, was like us seeing a human dissection. She had probably never dreamed that was possible. That we were capable of that. We were the worst species to her.

I understood now. The screaming, the vomiting. She hadn't been sick with fear, just horror. At what we'd done to those things—what I could think of now as sentient beings.

She hadn't even been thinking about herself.

A voice whispered in the dark. "Let me go. Put me down." Wanda. I hadn't realized she had regained consciousness.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Ian said. He was earnest, his words heartfelt. "I'm sorry."

"Let me go," she whispered again.

"You're not well," he said. "I'll take you to your room."

"No," she said, hoarsely but firmly. "Put me down now."

"Wanda—" he began to protest.

_"Now!"_ she yelled. There was a scuffling sound, then a soft thump. She must have thrown herself from his arms. Then I heard quick, frantic footfalls continuing down the tunnel.

She was running away from us.

"Wanda!" Ian called. I heard another footstep beside me and I knew he was about to go after her.

I reached out in the dark, grabbing his arm and holding him in place. "Let her go," I told him. She was obviously not okay yet. She needed some time, time to think and come to terms with what she'd seen. Maybe Mel could help. Surely _she_ understood.

"Don't touch me," Ian snarled. He wrenched his arm against my grip, trying to free himself. "Wanda, come back!"

I didn't let go. I knew we had made a big mistake in letting her see our operation, and now she was traumatized. Scarred. She wouldn't want him running after her, forcing her to be around him. She needed time alone.

Ian grunted, still attempting to throw me off. He jerked his elbow back, hitting my gut, and I sucked in a breath.

Our struggle lasted a minute more. I was trying to pull Ian back toward the hospital, trying to let Wanda have the space she needed from us, the humans, the _monsters._ But he finally shoved me away and started down the tunnel anyway.

"Don't—" I tried to say, but he was already sprinting.

I groaned. He might have liked her, but he must have underestimated how she had reacted to us. How strong her emotions had been.

When I'd touched her, held on to her so she wouldn't hurt herself, she had fought harder than she had before. She didn't want any of us around her, touching her. We were monsters. She...she hated us.

Why would it bother me if she hated us?

I made my way back to the hospital, where Jeb, Doc, and Kyle were still cleaning up. They looked up when I came in, concern in Doc's and Jeb's eyes.

"She ran off," I informed them. "I think she just needs time."

Doc kneaded his forehead. He looked troubled. "I wish she hadn't seen that. I wish I hadn't _done_ that."

"Hey, don't feel bad, Doc," Kyle said, putting a comforting hand on Doc's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Doc sighed tiredly. "I need to apologize to her."

"Just wait for her to calm down," Jeb urged. "I can understand her wantin' some time to herself."

The four of us worked in silence for several more minutes, cleaning the blood—both kinds—from the cots and the table. Doc seemed to be holding up better now, though I could tell he felt terrible about Wanda.

I was preoccupied with the repercussions of what had just happened. Wanda had just seen us killing her kind—something that had obviously shocked her. Before, she had felt...love for us, us humans. Had wanted to stay with us, not turn us in, because we hadn't been as bad as she'd thought.

Now that she knew...wouldn't she want to leave? Would she escape, somehow find her way back to the Seekers? Bring them here, just like everyone had always feared?

She would never do that if we hadn't allowed her to see our efforts. Our doomed efforts. They had always been futile. What was the point of trying, I had asked myself.

_To get Melanie back,_ I had reasoned this time. Rationalized. That was why I'd brought these parasites here. For her. And for me, so I could have her.

And now there was a chance that that might not ever happen. Not only that, but her body—Wanda—might turn dangerous after all, like I'd stopped fearing. Would that be my fault, if that happened?

I realized I wanted Wanda to _not_ hate us. I didn't want this kind, selfless girl, whom we'd been so eager to hate and distrust, to now have those same feelings for us. Just like I'd decided that she wasn't deserving of our aversion and hostility, I didn't want _us_ to be deserving of those same sentiments. But it seemed we were. _I_ was.

Just as Kyle and I were going to head out to bury the corpses, Ian came back. He was breathing hard and there was a wild, frantic look in his eyes. "I can't find her anywhere. I don't know where she went."

"Wanda?" Jeb asked.

"Yes," Ian gasped. He sat down on a cot, leaning forward and taking deep breaths. "I've looked everywhere."

Kyle's face hardened. "So it got out. Great." He glared at Jeb, fire in his eyes. "Nice job."

"Take it easy," Jeb drawled. He only looked marginally concerned, and totally unfazed by Kyle's anger. "She doesn't know the way out. We'll look in here."

"I'll help," I volunteered. I met Ian's reproachful glare as I headed out of the hospital. He probably thought I didn't care about her at all, but he was wrong. I _was_ concerned for her well-being—yes, because she was in Melanie's body, but also because of Jamie, because he cared about her, and she likewise. And she herself was so innocent—kind and harmless. Not so innocent now, though. She'd been disillusioned. Branded. Scarred.

Had I made a mistake in bringing the bodies back? I didn't think so. But, as I made my way into the main plaza to alert everyone of the crisis, I could see how Ian thought it had been a bad idea.

I didn't regret it, though.

The humans mobilized with more concern than I expected—many of them still didn't want to like Wanda, let alone trust her— but that was probably more concern for the situation she might create. This was what they'd feared from the beginning: her missing, on the loose, with a bad picture of humans in her mind, maybe ready to turn us all in.

But they all set off quickly to find her nonetheless. Brandt and Aaron led a party outside to look, just in case she'd somehow found the exit, and everyone else scoured the caves. We broke out the powerful flashlights, ones that would easily cut through the blackness of the darkest places. There were a lot of good hiding spots in here, I realized.

Everywhere had been checked, more than once. The day was stretching into evening and we still hadn't found her. Ian withdrew from the searches, instead pacing around the empty dining hall, pressing his hands to his head, distraught.

I was getting a little worried myself. What if she had found the way out and was wandering in that inhospitable desert again? What if she wanted revenge? What if...what if she...

There was one memory of kidnapping souls that stuck in my mind like no other. This was the one that had taught us never to let our hostages wake up.

The guy had come around, but we had secured him and were already in the caves. He hadn't seemed to struggle much, but he had to know we were humans and we meant him harm.

He had collapsed, unconscious, with just a slight nosebleed. None of us had thought much of it...until Doc had cut the human open.

And I didn't want to picture it again, what we'd discovered. It had made me sick.

What if Wanda did that to Mel? What if she was so horrified at what we were capable of that she decided to get rid of the human in her head in the only way possible? Turned her brain into oatmeal?

Where _was_ she?

A shout echoed from...the game room? "I found her! Tell the others to get back inside! She's in here after all!"

I turned quickly and jogged for the eastern tunnel, my heart pounding with anxiety. Had she done anything to Mel? They hadn't sounded alarmed upon finding her...

When I reached the dark cavern, about ten people were milling around at the entrance. Paige, Trudy, Geoffrey, Lily... They were discussing whether or not to get Jamie. I was glad when I heard Trudy say, "He shouldn't be on that leg."

Wanda would come to him. She would. She cared about him enough for that. Surely she didn't see _him_ as a monster.

If she could come.

"Where is she?" I called to them.

"Over here, Jared," Wes said. He stood in the darkest corner of the game room, a flashlight in his hand. "She's not...responding."

"We didn't touch her," Andy added. He walked over to Paige and placed an arm around her shoulder.

"Here." I held out my hand. "Give me the light." Wes handed it over, and I directed it at her.

She was huddled behind a crevice by the sulfur spring, curled into a ball, her head buried in her knees. Her arms tightened when the light hit her, as through she was trying to hide herself from the beam, make herself so small she couldn't be seen.

She was alive. She was okay. She hadn't taken that final, drastic step.

Relief was coursing through me, but I knew she really wasn't _okay._ I had to say something to her. "Now, the rest of you, get out of here. Emergency over. Give her some air, okay?"

Wes stepped back a few paces, never turning around. Trudy, closer to the tunnel mouth, lingered by the exit. Concern, genuine concern, was in their eyes. They were worried about her. They cared that she was upset.

I appreciated this, but I could tell they wouldn't be able to comfort her. "Seriously, people. You're not helping. Leave. All the way out."

They turned to leave reluctantly. Geoffrey gave me a significant look as he exited. Wes walked forward and took Lily's hand, and they left the room together.

Before I could really process that, I turned back to Wanda. She hadn't moved.

How deeply had we hurt her?

I waited until the others' footsteps had faded before I said anything. "Okay, Wanda, it's just you and me." Maybe she would talk if no one else was pressuring her. Didn't she...respond to me?

"Look, I guess that must have been pretty...bad." That didn't half cover it. "We never wanted you to see that. I'm sorry." It wouldn't have sounded sincere if I hadn't apologized, but I knew I was only sorry for letting her see, not for doing it in the first place. I was that selfish.

I stood in the blackness, the circle of light on her, wanting, willing her to say something, do something.

Nothing.

"You look like you want to be alone," I continued. It was just like our early conversations—one-sided. "That's okay. I can keep them away, if you want."

I interpreted her continued silence as affirmation. Moving forward, I crouched down beside her and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

She sucked in a breath, a sharp, almost desperate noise, at the same time shrinking further into herself, away from my touch. My comfort.

She didn't like me touching her anymore. I was just as repulsive to her now as...as an alien would be.

"Sorry."

I straightened, walking slowly away from her. She didn't look like she'd be moving any time soon. She just needed time to come to grips. That was all. We could give her space enough for that.

Well, I could. Not everyone was so considerate.

I met Ian at the mouth. He must have run here to see her. Relief and apprehension warred in his expression. "Where is she?"

"She wants to be alone," I told him again. "Let her be."

He glowered at me. "Don't get in my way again, Howe."

"Do you think she wants comfort from you?" I queried, raising an eyebrow. "A _human?_" Surely, if he knew her, he had to understand what she thought of us now.

"I wasn't party to this—" he insisted, but I cut him off.

"Not _this_ time." Apparently I had to spell it out for him, like he had earlier for me. "You're one of us, Ian. Her enemy. Did you hear what she said in there? She was screaming _monsters._ That's how she sees us now. She doesn't want your comfort."

"Give me the light," he persisted. Evidently he was still wrapped up in the personal fable that he was somehow less monstrous and deplorable to her. Didn't he remember how she'd fought him when he'd tried to carry her?

But I wasn't going to argue with him. If he wanted to invite, embrace, rejection from her, I wouldn't stop him. I shoved the flashlight into his hand and watched him venture into the black hole. Upon finding her with the light, he settled himself near to her—but not too close—and switched off the flashlight.

With nothing more to see, I strode quietly from the tunnel, back toward the main plaza. I needed to go see Jamie. I didn't know how much anyone had told him about all this, and I wasn't sure I wanted to tell him. But if he couldn't get up and go see Wanda, he at least needed to know where she was.

I met Kyle as he came out of the southern tunnel. He was filthy; light brown dust stuck to his skin and clothes with sweat. He must have gone outside to bury the bodies.

"Where is it?" he growled. The self-righteous anger and indignation at Wanda's flight hadn't left him.

I sighed. "The game room. She just wanted time alone."

"Alone?" Kyle inquired. His eyes narrowed. "Where's Ian?"

"Well...with her," I qualified.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. It was almost a groan. "It's gonna hurt him one day." His face was pained.

And I saw, in that instant, more clearly than I'd ever seen Kyle. Why he was the way he was. Why he still hated Wanda. Why he clung to the belief that she had a dastardly plan in place to get us all caught.

He'd been hurt by a soul, too. He'd had a girlfriend, Jodi. _She'd_ been caught. He'd never met her, the soul, but whoever it was obviously tortured him. Like Wanda had me, before I knew her. Like she only did now a little.

Kyle didn't want his brother—his little brother, the only family he had left—to be hurt like that. Like how I'd been afraid Wanda would hurt Jamie, when she'd first arrived. That same protective instinct.

Maybe we weren't as different as I thought.

I looked at him with new respect, new acumen. I didn't know what to say—whether to argue with him about Wanda, or to tell him I understood his blind odium now. I ended up saying, "Go take a bath."

As he strode away from me, though, I couldn't help but call after him, "Watch out for the floor in there!"

"Get stuffed, Jared."

I sobered quickly, turning and heading for the sleeping corridors. Would Wanda ever get over this? Would she ever come out of that black pit?

Had I had my last times with Melanie?

I pulled the green screen aside without thinking about it. Was Mel okay? Was she mad at me? Trying to console Wanda? What was she doing?

"Hey, Jared," Jamie piped. He was reclined on his bed, an empty food tray beside the mattress. "What's going on? Where's Wanda?"

* * *

><p><strong>Done! For now. And unfortunately, no guarantees on when the next installment will be up. I've had less time and—dare I say?—less inspiration lately. I know, I hate that just as much as you guys.<strong>

**But thanks for all the positive feedback in the reviews! I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm, but I'm still waiting for suggestions to make this thing better. Leave them in the reviews, obviously! ;-)**

**Thanks for reading KylerM.**


	13. Gone for Good

**Hello, all! Hey, remember those times when I would post a new chapter approximately every two weeks?**

**Yeah, I miss those times too.**

**The funny thing is, once I actually sit down and start writing, it takes me practically no time. I blew through this thing in about a week. No idea how. But, here it is!**

**Enjoy! I love angst...**

* * *

><p>Wanda didn't come out.<p>

Night fell, and Jamie and I spent the night in our room alone. He fretted about her, though I hadn't even disclosed the full extent of her trauma.

When we woke the next morning, I was alarmed to discover Jamie had a fever. His skin was clammy, his cheeks a little redder than normal. He said his leg hurt worse.

I ran to get Doc. He examined the cut, felt Jamie's forehead, and pronounced mild septicemia. "He'll be all right. He should be. Just give it a few days."

"Isn't there anything to do?" I implored, trying to hide my panic. If anything happened to the kid, it would be my fault. I'd brought him out, let him get hurt.

"Nope. There's not much infection there; you got him here pretty fast. He should be able to fight it off." Doc patted Jamie's shoulder reassuringly.

"I want to see Wanda," Jamie said. He propped himself up on the mattress. "Can I go talk to her?"

"No," Doc and I said at the same time.

"You need to stay off your leg, keep your circulation down," Doc clarified. I nodded, but I was thinking of Wanda and Mel.

She would come when she was ready. Surely if she had slept in the game room, she would've woken up in a better mood. She would come sometime today. She would. But I didn't want to push her.

I went to get food for Jamie and was slightly surprised to see Ian in the kitchen. His eyes were hollow and bloodshot. And something else. Something...haunted. Something akin to Wanda's horrified expression yesterday.

Maybe she'd spoken to him, explained everything she was feeling. I went over to him at the counter by the ovens.

"Morning."

He didn't turn. I saw his jaw tighten. "What do you want?"

I sighed. He was still angry. "How is she?"

He closed his eyes. I saw his lids tremble. "It's...scary. She won't talk. She won't hardly _move._ Except when I got near her." He opened his eyes, reaching over and grabbing some cornbread. "I'm getting food for her."

"Will..." I hesitated. "Will you tell her that Jamie's sick?"

"He's sick?" Ian actually looked concerned.

"He's got a fever. She needs to come see him if he can't go see her."

Ian shook his head forcefully. "I won't tell her. She's got other _things_ on her mind right now." He gave me a pointed look. I heard his silent accusation.

"Whatever," I said tiredly. I grabbed a few pieces of cornbread for Jamie and myself. "See you in the east field?"

"No. I'm staying with her."

Now _he_ was the one burying himself with her. Like I had. Except now her confinement was voluntary, and he was there to comfort her, not guard her. But she wasn't having any of it.

"Have fun," I told him.

My day of arduous work in the field did not take my ever-wandering mind off Jamie, or Wanda, or Melanie.

Doc had said that there was nothing to do for Jamie, that he would be able to fight off the infection. But he was only saying that because there literally was _nothing_ we could do for him. We had no antibiotics, no medicine that would help. We didn't even have ice to cool his fever. The infection would persist, and if it was strong enough, it would overpower his immunities. All of them.

Jamie was worried sick about Wanda. He'd nearly burst into tears last night when I told him what had happened. He had wanted to go see her right away, but I'd convinced him she had probably fallen asleep. He still wanted to see her now, was most likely waiting for her in our room. The longer it took her to come...the more worried and restless and anxious Jamie would become. He couldn't recover like that.

She _had_ to come see him. She had to come look at him with his sister's face, murmur reassurances that Mel was probably shouting in their head, tell him herself that he was going to be fine. If she knew about him, she would come. Only Ian didn't want to tell her. Was he right that she had enough to deal with?

The day wore on, and that night passed much the same as the one before. Wanda did not come.

Ian only emerged from the black hole to retrieve food. It took me until the next afternoon to realize he was bringing food _out_ of there as well as in. He carried two full trays from the kitchen but returned them, still full, just a few hours later.

Kyle noticed this right after I did. He caught up with his brother just outside the dining hall, and I couldn't help but listen to their subdued conversation. Kyle was incapable of truly speaking softly.

"Bro, you look terrible."

"You should see Wanda."

"Dude...are you not eating?"

"No. She's not, so I..."

"So you're not eating because _it_ isn't?"

"It just doesn't seem right to—"

Kyle interrupted, his voice flatter than before. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"What?"

"You're starving yourself because a _parasite_ is?"

"It's Wanda. She—"

"_It_ is only doing it to hurt you. Look at yourself. You—you're playing right into its hands. Doing exactly what it wants."

"You should see her. You don't know how much she's hurting."

"You think I care?" Kyle's tone was harsh. He stalked away. After a minute, I heard Ian's quiet, labored footfalls leaving too.

Even if I understood why Kyle harbored such deep hatred for Wanda, that didn't _excuse_ his attitude. I wanted to run after Kyle and make him understand, but I didn't want to reveal that I'd been eavesdropping. So I waited until the hall was silent and headed back to our room.

Jamie wasn't getting better. His face was flushed, the skin around his cut swollen. He had a harder time sitting up now, but he still wanted to go see Wanda. I gently pressed his shoulders back onto the mattress, muttering meaningless comfort. I couldn't tell him she wasn't eating.

She would end up hurting herself, and Mel, which would hurt Jamie even more. It would hurt _me._ I didn't want Mel to be the victim of someone else's starvation. And...I didn't want _Wanda_ to be hurt. I didn't want that girl to suffer and inflict pain on herself.

If I brought bodies back...would this be the price I'd pay? Alienation from Mel—for trying to get her back? Was that worth it? If not...

Could I live peacefully with Mel's current existence?

...

Another day passed. By this time, people had started to come visit Jamie. They wanted to check on him, to see if he was doing any better, but they mostly came to lift his spirits. He missed Wanda badly.

He kept trying to get up, the effort far more exerting than it should have been, and time and time again I had to pin him down. He couldn't go see Wanda. She had to come to him.

But it was starting to look like she wouldn't come on her own.

After lunch, Jeb came to see Jamie. He asked me about Wanda.

"I guess she's not eating," I said in a low voice. "Ian says she won't talk or anything."

"Jamie's not gonna rest until he sees her," Jeb murmured. We both turned to look at the kid. Wes and Lily were there, talking animatedly, but Jamie was listening with a less than enthusiastic expression. He kept glancing toward the door.

"I know." I kept my face smooth, devoid of worry or any other emotion. "I'm thinking about just going in there and getting her. Carrying her out."

Jeb shook his head. "No. She'll fight you. Or worse, she'll still refuse to talk to the kid or any of us. Won't do him any good to see her catatonic."

"We can't just leave her in there," I contended, getting agitated. "Jamie'll make himself sicker with worry. He won't get better, and..." I trailed off. I didn't want to think about what would happen.

I had just gotten Melanie back. I couldn't lose Jamie now.

"Maybe I could go talk to her," Jeb mused speculatively. "Get her to snap out of it..."

I shrugged. "Do your worst." Jamie needed her. One way or another, I would get her to him. If she wouldn't come by dinnertime, I was going in there. But it would be nice if Jeb could get her here willingly.

Jeb left. I stayed leaned up against the wall, listening to Wes and Lily tell Jamie how they'd played soccer with Wanda and Ian. As he spoke, Wes reached over absentmindedly and took Lily's hand.

Jamie noticed. He stared at their interlocked hands, then looked at their faces, a slow smile growing on his face. A sly smile.

Lily ducked her head shyly. Wes broke off from his story and bit his lip, peeking at me from the corner of his eye.

I was smiling too. Wes had always liked Lily. I was glad he'd finally worked up the courage to ask her out—or whatever people could do in here to get together. I wouldn't know.

"Congrats, guys," I told them sincerely.

"Have you guys kissed?" Jamie asked gleefully. "Mel and Jared used to get _unbearable_ making—"

"Okay, kid, not cool," I cut him off hastily. I didn't want to think about kissing Melanie right now. I'd never be able to do that again.

Lily and Wes laughed. "I'm gonna pass on that one," Wes said in reply to Jamie's question.

Doc came in then, bringing some tepid water for Jamie's fever and new bandages for his leg. Ian was right on his heels.

"Ian," Jamie said. "How's Wanda?"

He shrugged.

I felt my heart sink. She was no different, then. No better.

I put my hands behind my back, pinning them to the wall behind me. Wes and Lily left the room as Doc knelt down by Jamie. Ian came over to me.

"Jamie wants to see her, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

Ian sighed. The tormented look in his eyes hadn't gone away. "I wish I could do something. I just _can't._"

"I think Jeb was going to try to talk to her," I remembered.

"Really?" Ian didn't sound very excited. He was more or less lethargic. Apparently her suffering was causing him a lot of pain. He ambled toward the door, throwing Jamie a strained smile over his shoulder. "Hang in there, kid."

Jamie gasped in pain as Doc undid his bandages. He pressed his lips together bravely, though he kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, away from his wound.

Doc sponged the cut gently. I heard the gentle babble of voices outside our room and knew that Jamie's friends were waiting for news of him.

I didn't go out to speak to them, though they lingered for several minutes. What if there wasn't any good news? Ever?

"Wanda." Heidi's voice came suddenly through the door. "Wanda's here."

_Thank you, Jeb._

"Let her through," Wes murmured to the cluster of people, and then suddenly Wanda was there, striding feverishly toward Jamie, towing Ian by the hand.

"Wanda," Jamie huffed. The stress melted right off his face, replaced by relief. "Oh, you're okay. Oh."

It took all I had not to rush over and hug her. She had come for Jamie. Even if she hated the rest of us, she loved him enough to come out of that black hole. Come out of her mourning, her seclusion, to help him recover.

She dropped to her knees beside Doc, hardly noticing him. She still clung to Ian, pulling him down when she knelt.

I found I didn't mind their closeness. He was there for Wanda. If he had helped her to find her voice, her reason again, that was enough.

And she did speak. A little hoarsely, but perfectly normally. "Jamie, baby, how are you?"

He smiled, really smiled, for the first time in days. "Stupid. Just plain stupid. Can you believe this? Of all the luck!" He indicated his leg.

Wanda took a rag off his pillow and dabbed at his sweaty face. "You're going to be fine." Her voice sounded determined. Fierce and maternal, just like Melanie's.

"Of course," he affirmed. "It's nothing. But Jared wouldn't let me come talk to you." He glanced over at me, and I ducked my head, dropping my gaze so she wouldn't look at me with the same accusation he was.

"I heard about..." Jamie paused. He didn't seem to want to say it, or perhaps he didn't know how to without upsetting her. He decided to just leave it up to her imagination. "And Wanda, you know I—"

"Shh," she soothed him. She didn't look at me. "Don't even think of it. If I'd had any idea you were sick I would have been here sooner."

_Ha,_ I thought, looking at Ian. If he had just told her, she would've come long before. I'd been right. It didn't really matter, though. She was here now.

"I'm not really sick," Jamie said defensively. "Just a stupid infection. I'm glad you're here, though. I hated not knowing how you were."

So had I. Knowing that Mel was here, trapped in a head full of suffering, had been hard to withstand. Hopefully Wanda was past the worst. Poor Mel.

Jamie brightened. "So I heard you schooled Wes the day we got back. Man, I wish I could've seen that! I bet Melanie loved it."

"Yes, she did," Wanda said quietly.

"She okay?" Jamie asked, looking into her eyes. "Not too worried?"

"Of course she's worried." Her voice had dropped suddenly in volume.

"_You_ okay?" Jamie persisted. "Wanda?"

"I'm...tired," she murmured. "Jamie, I'm sorry. I'm just...out of it?"

She sounded so hesitant. Like she was afraid. Afraid of...what? What she was saying? Afraid of our reaction? Afraid we would question her, wouldn't believe her?

Was she lying?

"You don't look so good." Jamie scrutinized her face.

I wished her back wasn't to me, so _I_ could see her face. I wanted to know what she was thinking. Why would she be lying? There was nothing for her to be afraid of, nothing for her to hide...was there?

"I haven't cleaned up in a while," she admitted. She was still wiping his forehead, though her touch was tender, almost a caress.

"I'm fine, you know," Jamie said. "You should go eat or something. You're pale."

"Don't worry about me." She didn't respond negatively to the suggestion of food, so I guessed she was over her fasting. But now she seemed preoccupied. Or something.

"I'll get you some food," Ian offered. He looked at Jamie. "Hungry, kid?"

"Ah...no, not really." Jamie seemed confused to discover this. He _had_ eaten lunch just a few hours ago. Was his lack of appetite just coincidental? Or was it a product of his worsening condition?

Ian started to get up, but Wanda held on to his hand. "Send someone else."

"Sure." Ian turned to the door, a little perplexed. "Wes, could you get some food? Something for Jamie, too. I'm sure he'll find that appetite by the time you get back."

Wes left the doorway, heading for the kitchen.

Wanda stared fixedly at Jamie, not fully meeting his eyes. "Jamie, do mind if I go wash my face? I feel sort of...grimy?"

"'Course not."

She stood, pulling Ian to his feet as well. "I'll be right back," she vowed, a weak smile on her face. She just looked...uneasy. "I mean it this time." She must have told him that before...before she'd come to the hospital.

I watched them leave the room. Doc looked up at me, confusion written all over his face. He'd noticed her strange behavior too. I shrugged, clueless.

Jamie was less aware. "I hope she's okay."

"Me too, kid," Doc said, rewrapping Jamie's leg in boiled-clean cloths. "Okay, how's that feel?"

"Fine," Jamie muttered. He was staring at the ceiling again.

Wes brought some food back after a little while, but Jamie didn't eat. He drank a little water but refused the bread I offered. I couldn't eat. I was queasy. Anxious. What if Jamie...

No. That wouldn't happen.

"Jared." The voice came from the doorway. Ian's voice.

I turned to see him leaning against our makeshift door. Alone.

"Where's Wanda?" Jamie and I wondered at the same time.

"Uh...she needs to see you, Jared. Can you come?" He looked...odd. A little awkward, a little frantic. A bit disheveled. Really odd.

"Sure," I said bemusedly. "Doc, will you..." I didn't want to leave the kid alone.

"Yeah, I got him," Doc said quickly. "We'll be fine." He grinned at Jamie conspiratorially.

I followed Ian into the hallway. The others had gone, except Jeb. I didn't look at him as we hurried by.

"What does she need?" I asked Ian. Wanda had never, ever asked me for anything before. Never asked _anyone_ for anything.

He exhaled deeply and slowly. The words seemed to evade him, but he finally spit them out. "She needs you to...kiss her."

I stopped dead in my tracks. _"What?!"_ I hissed.

"It's hard to explain, and it's not what you think. Please just come on."

It wasn't what I thought? I didn't know _what_ I was thinking. What did this mean? What did she want from me?

Did this have anything to do with her distraction in Jamie's room? But that didn't make any sense. Why would she _want_ to kiss me? Surely she still thought of me as a monster.

I forced myself to catch up with Ian. He got to the end of the tunnel and headed toward another corridor off the main plaza. It was dark.

"Just think of it as...an experiment," he said almost wryly. Turning my words on their head, the words I'd used to describe my first kiss with Wanda.

"Are you crazy?" I demanded of him. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

He didn't respond to that. Instead, he nudged my shoulder, pushing me ahead of him. "Through here."

In the gloom of the tunnel, I could see Wanda leaned up against the wall. Her breaths were loud and jagged, and she was trembling. When she caught sight of me, an expression of pure humiliation came over her face. I could practically see her begging: _No no no please no..._

"Wanda, what's this about?" I inquired, not harshly, but in a tone that demanded an answer.

She wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were on the ground, near my feet.

"I lost Melanie."

What? "You _lost_ her!" How was that possible? They shared the same _head!_

She nodded. I could see the shame and suffering of culpability in that simple motion.

She had done something. Something to make her _lose_ Melanie. The other person in her head.

Mel had stuck around, had had the strength of will to remain aware when she wasn't supposed to. Now Wanda had...what? Suppressed her? Sent her away? Made her fade? Whatever she'd done, Wanda couldn't find Melanie.

"How?" My voice came out hard. I was almost...angry at her again. She knew how much Mel meant to me.

What had she done!

"I'm not sure," she whispered. "I made her be quiet...but she always comes back—always before. I can't hear her now...and Jamie..."

So that was why her demeanor had changed in the room. Jamie had mentioned Melanie, and Wanda had gone stiff with the realization that...Melanie was gone?

Gone for good?

My voice wavered as I verified this terrible fact, this renewed reality. "She's _gone?_"

I had become very adept at hiding my feelings since that disastrous trip to Chicago—very capable of masking my pain with focus and determination. Now, though, I couldn't do it. Not fully. I knew Wanda could hear it, what I was feeling. Some blind panic I couldn't completely encapsulate. A terrible horror that was returning, after it had left me—after Mel had come back. Now Mel was...lost. Wanda lost her.

I was the one begging now:_ Please no please no..._

Wanda's voice was heavy. "I don't know. I can't find her." Maybe Wanda was feeling some of my pain. Maybe she just understood just how much pain _I_ was in.

This was worse than the first time. I had just become accustomed to Mel being here, after I'd thought I'd lost her forever. She had been here, had come back to me.

Now Wanda had let her go.

I took a deep breath. I would _not_ break down. "Why does Ian think I have to kiss you?" It was completely nonsensical. Why would kissing the girl who had killed my love, _again,_ help me? Or her? She wouldn't want that. She hated us, didn't she? Me especially.

"Not kiss me," she breathed. "Kiss _her._ Nothing upset her more than when you kissed us...before. Nothing pulled her to the surface like that."

I remembered that episode all too well. Me kissing her as an _experiment,_ as Ian had reminded me. Wanda responding. Melanie reacting to both of us. Punching me. She hated Wanda kissing me.

It had been an experiment last time. I hadn't been expecting Mel to break through; I hadn't even believed she was there. Now she wasn't there—really. Wanda couldn't find her, couldn't hear her...

How could I kiss _Melanie_ if she wasn't there?

"Maybe..." Wanda said, perhaps sensing my hesitation. "No. You don't have to. I'll try to find her myself." She was still studying the brown-purple rock of the floor. She hadn't looked up at me once.

She was mortified to ask this of me. She knew I'd hate it, and it'd make her uncomfortable too—knowing that the intimacy was not for her. Wanda would not ask me to do this if she didn't think it was absolutely necessary. And she would know what was necessary.

"You think, if I kiss her..." I took one small, tentative step toward her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. I took that as a _yes_ in her petrified state.

Just three days ago, she had wanted nothing to do with us. Absolutely nothing—she hadn't wanted us to touch her or talk to her or even be near her. Now that was all but forgotten. She was willing to do anything to get Mel back. She cared about her human that much.

Was _I_ willing?

I couldn't lose Melanie. Jamie could be slipping away now, as I struggled. And of course Mel would always be...removed from me. But she'd been here. Even though she was invisible, her presence was comforting. I hadn't realized how much until that feeling left.

Now I was feeling lost. Groundless. Spiraling in all directions.

I had promised I'd never let Mel go, and I'd thought that promise had been broken a long time ago. But Melanie was alive. Still. She hadn't fully gotten away. Not yet, not until Wanda...

No. She couldn't be gone for good. I would _not_ let her slip away. If I could do something to keep Mel here, I would do it. Always.

I would kiss her. Wanda. Mel. I would kiss them to get her back. I had to. There was no choice.

I placed my hands on her neck, sliding them slowly to her shoulders. Her skin seemed hot, as though it was literally burning from her embarrassment. I traced her arm, down to her hand, where mine lingered on hers. With my other hand, I took her chin and pulled her face gently to my height.

I leaned in close to her ear, my cheek brushing hers—her rough cheek, the one we'd scarred up. "Melanie," I whispered. Calling deep into her brain, her conscience, wherever she was. "I know you're there. Come back to me." Then I pulled back, angling my head so I could kiss her.

I would remain in control, I resolved. When we were so close, Mel had a way of getting into my brain, my senses. It was like I had no say in what I did. But this time I would keep my head. This was _Wanda_ too, and I didn't love Wanda.

But she loved _me._ And this was still Mel's body.

She reacted. I couldn't stop her. And I couldn't stop _me_ either. In seconds, we were bound so tightly together I thought we'd never break apart. I backed her up instinctively, trapping her against the rock wall. She breathed wildly, eagerly, equally overwhelmed.

Wanda, not Mel. This was still just Wanda.

As she tangled her hands in my hair, I leaned to her ear again. Calling for Mel. This time, though, I was not so gentle. "Melanie Stryder! You will _not_ leave me."

If she had any sense of will left, at all, Melanie would want to come back. She was stubborn. She had come back for us once, when none of us thought she would. She couldn't go away now, not when I needed her so much.

Why wasn't she coming back? She _had_ to!

"Don't you love me?" I growled in her ear. My voice was loud in the echoing cavern. "Prove it! _Prove_ it! Darn it, Mel! Get back here!"

I kissed her again desperately, almost violently. It was so strange—the passion of the moment, mixed up with my utter sense of loss, rendered me numb. Overrode my sense. All I could feel was Melanie's body, the person inside it reacting with fervent intensity.

She pressed her hands to my stomach under my shirt, nearly smashing her fingers between us. As she gasped for air, I moved my face to her throat. I breathed in her scent, her skin.

This was so familiar, these actions. If only this was actually Mel.

And then something changed.

Wanda's hands, clutching at me so desperately, tensed suddenly. I could feel her fingernails digging, scratching at my stomach. Then she pushed me away forcefully, breaking our embrace. _"NO!"_

I grabbed her hands instinctively, before she could fall. Her face...her face was angry. Angry in a way that Wanda _never_ was. Contorted with rage and indignation.

I was confused momentarily, and then I realized. "Mel?"

She was the angry one. _She_ was the one who wouldn't want me to kiss this body. Were these _her_ emotions showing on this face?

"Mel!"

"What are you _doing?_" she shouted, and her voice was so familiar. I'd been hearing it for months, her voice, but something had been different. This, now, wasn't Wanda.

Mel was here. Not only that, she'd broken through. This was _her!_

"I knew you could do it!" I cried. I was exuberant. I barely even stopped to consider Wanda as I leaned back toward her. "Ah, Mel!"

I realized then, as I kissed her again, that I was crying. It was all okay. I hadn't lost Melanie again. My Mel. She had come back for me, and my sheer joy and triumph both eclipsed and mixed with the grief I'd just accumulated. Accumulated needlessly—she was here. She wasn't gone; she wasn't dead. No, she was here in my arms, and my cold dread was flowing out of me. I had her.

I'd _almost lost_ Mel. And I was so relieved, so, so glad that I hadn't, that she'd come through, that I forgot that she was angry at me. Forgot that she didn't want this.

I felt her teeth, hard and vicious, cut into my lips. She'd _bitten_ me this time. Startled, I pulled back, looking at her furious face.

It was the strangest thing to watch. Mel was glaring at me one second, her teeth still bared, and then the fury softened and dissolved right off her face. Her expression was bewildered and shell-shocked and frightened. She made a small, heaving motion forward and slumped to the ground against the wall.

Her body was confused. Two people inside, warring for control, was too much for one body. Mel was putting up a fight.

I loved that girl.

I was laughing. I had not laughed, really laughed, in such a long time. I didn't care that she was mad. She could punch me, bite me, attack me a hundred, a thousand times, and I would still take her. She could be a prisoner for the rest of her life, trapped inside her own head. I would take it and be grateful. Anything was better than not having her here at all. "That's my girl!"

Her body—Wanda, back in control—huddled on the floor, gasping. She hugged her arms tightly to herself, like she was trying to hold her divided body together. "You still got her, Wanda?" I checked.

"Yes," she panted. Her eyes unfocused, and her expression became anguished.

Talking to Melanie.

No doubt Mel was making Wanda suffer right now, for kissing me so passionately. And she had. Very passionately.

I wanted her to speak again. I wanted to hear her voice, or at least her thoughts. Wanda was staring into space, like she did before when she and Melanie were having a conversation. Maybe Wanda was telling her about Jamie.

"Mel?" I said to reawaken her—both of them—to the world outside their head.

Wanda answered without looking at me. "She's here. She's furious. She wants to see Jamie."

I couldn't feel chagrin or remorse anywhere in me for making her angry. "You can be as mad as you want, Mel." I wrapped my arm around their body and heaved her to her feet. "Just stick around."

Wanda didn't shrug off my arm around her, but she didn't reciprocate the gesture. She seemed...not unhappy, but much less buoyant than I was.

Was she not happy to have Mel back? But she was a good enough person to know that Mel _should_ be there. Maybe this had something to do with her feelings for me. Kissing me. Or maybe she was responding to what Mel was saying. As I studied Wanda's distrait, abstracted expression, she shuddered.

"You okay?" I inquired of her.

"Sort of," she said, the anguish not quite gone from her voice. I still couldn't quite discern the source of her negative emotions. I was flying high.

"Was that _her_ before, talking to me—talking out loud?" Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted to see Mel. See _her_ awareness looking at me through her eyes—silver reflections or not.

"Yes," she answered.

"Can she..." No, it really wasn't a question of what _Mel_ could do. Wanda had to _let_ her out. "Can you let her do that now?"

She sighed wearily. "I...can try." She closed her eyes and concentrated. "C'mon, here," she muttered, trying to pass the reins over.

It was pretty obvious, what gave Mel control. Or, more accurately, what made Wanda _lose_ control. And it wasn't anything either of them could do.

Wanda's eyes still closed, I bent forward quickly and covered her mouth with mine. Her lids snapped open immediately.

For half a second, Wanda and I stared at each other, her eyes full of shock and astonishment, mine alert with anticipation. Then the change happened again. Her eyes narrowed, filled with ire. She pulled her lips away from mine, twisting them into a wrathful grimace. "Cut that out! Don't _touch_ her!"

Her peppery tone...that was Mel, without a question. She was here, talking to me, because she loved me enough to keep me away from Wanda. I wanted to cry again, I was so happy. I felt my eyes crinkle with the intensity of my grin. "Hey, baby."

Her face relaxed once more, Mel's anger being replaced with Wanda's bemused, disoriented expressions. She took a deep, shuddering breath, collecting herself after having been shoved to the side of her body's controls.

Now she knew how Mel felt all the time.

Wanda exhaled shakily. "She's not laughing."

I didn't care. Melanie was alive. Wanda hadn't killed her. She was here, and I loved her.

In that moment, my affection for Mel extended to both of them. Melanie, and the alien girl who had helped me bring her back. My arm encircled their body as we made our way out of the dusky corridor, back toward our room.

My humorous mood hadn't passed. "I'm warning you, Mel, you better stay right here. I'm not making any guarantees about what I will or won't do to get you back." Well, my manner was joking, but the sentiment was sincere. I'd do whatever it took to keep Melanie here.

Wanda didn't smile as she relayed Mel's response. "She's threatening your life right now...but I think she's being facetious."

I laughed. Wanda really _was_ different from Mel. Melanie and I could have entire conversations consisting of playful banter, but Wanda was very...focused. She hardly ever joked, not like Mel had. "You're so serious all the time, Wanda."

"Your jokes aren't funny."

That made me laugh. It was all going to be okay. We would go see Jamie, and Wanda would tell him what Melanie was thinking. He would be comforted. He would recover. And Melanie would still be here. It was...perfect. This moment, at least, was perfect. How could I not make jokes?

Wanda simply wasn't amused. Halfway back to our room, I noticed she was staring at nothing again—having a silent, invisible exchange. "What's she saying?" I asked her.

"We're just...making up."

So they had been at odds. So much that Wanda had sent Melanie away.

But she was back now. Trapped, but here. And she _could_ break through. She had. I was still enthralled by the fact that she had just _talked_ to me. Although she couldn't when she was trying.

"Why couldn't she talk before, when you were trying to let her?"

Wanda sighed frustratedly. "I don't know, Jared. There really isn't enough room for both of us."

No, one of them had to be pushed to the side.

"I can't seem to get myself out of the way completely," she went on. "It's like...not like holding your breath. Like...trying to pause your heartbeats. I can't make myself not exist. I don't know how."

I was quiet. I didn't quite know how to respond to that. What could I say? _I wish you did know?_ That would be unkind. And I didn't want to be mean to Wanda. She had just put herself through so much for Melanie, and from her disposition now, she was still suffering.

I'd be grateful to her, always. For bringing Melanie back, twice now. She was so selfless, so noble. I couldn't imagine now having distrusted her to the point of hatred. I'd never be so stubborn again, I vowed.

And I wouldn't try again to bring back any souls to extract. I'd learned my lesson. From that venture, Jamie had been hurt, Wanda had hated us, and Melanie had almost been erased completely from her occupied body.

I didn't want to try that again in a hurry.

So as we got back to our room, as Wanda tended to Jamie, I made my peace with her. Yes, I _could_ live peacefully with Mel's current existence. Anything was better than the alternative—having her obliterated by Wanda in horror.

As long as Mel was here, invisible or not, I'd be okay. Jamie definitely was; I could see in his face a happy change when Wanda was around, especially now when he was glued to his mattress. There was nothing Mel could give him that Wanda couldn't.

Of course, with me, that was a different story, but the only things Melanie couldn't give me now were physical gratifications I selfishly longed for. That was fine. Her presence was what I really needed.

And Wanda wasn't a bad kisser either.

* * *

><p><strong>XD I couldn't resist!<strong>

**Thanks again for reviews and such.**

**I'd better go...thank you for reading KylerM!**


	14. Exercise of Trust

**Hi, everyone! I'm back! Honestly, it scares me how little writing I've done. All I've done lately I'm my sparse free time is watch TV (major Superwholock binge!).**

**But...here's another chapter from SM's lovely book. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Fourteen. Duh.**

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><p><em>I failed.<em>

It was all I could think.

Wanda had done everything she could—brought Melanie back, stayed every minute by Jamie's side. She'd done her part.

And he still got worse. His fever had deepened considerably, and he had stopped...waking up.

I tried to do my part. I tried to help him.

Kyle, Ian, and I had gone on a raid, much like the one I'd gone on for Walter. We were looking for antibiotics for Jamie. His infection had to be treated.

Three days. We spent three days scoping out houses, breaking and entering, searching, searching for medicine, getting more and more desperate with each empty bathroom cabinet. And nothing. Only a cooler of ice that had already half melted by the time we returned to the caves.

I'd failed him.

Wanda did not speak. She leaned against the wall of our room, unmoving, watching Trudy apply the ice inside cloth compresses to Jamie's sweaty red face.

I stood as still as Wanda, leaning against the opposite wall, drowning in despair. I had failed the kid. Failed Mel. And Wanda. I couldn't make Jamie better. My best hadn't been enough.

Would I lose the kid? After we'd been through so much to get Melanie back, would Jamie slip away now?

Jamie's friends were there; in fact, most all of the humans were gathered out in the hall, waiting for news on the kid. Kyle was explaining to Doc our fruitless mission.

Ian moved to whisper comfort to Wanda. She did not acknowledge his words. Her face was carefully blanked into a mask I knew very well—I'd worn it in the months after Melanie disappeared, and I was wearing it now: one of carefully concealed pain. She stared at Jamie with a chilling intensity. I didn't know what she was thinking. Maybe she was talking to Melanie.

She loved Jamie so much. He was such a part of the reason she'd come here and was all right with staying here as a semi-prisoner. Would she be less compliant if he was...?

If Jamie was to die...I'd be almost as hurt as I was when Melanie was taken. I loved that boy like a brother; he triggered that inexplicable protective, paternal instinct in me like he brought out the mother in Mel. He was family.

And Jamie's manner of death couldn't be disputable like Melanie's. _He_ couldn't come back from the dead. There would be no reprieve for this pain.

We couldn't lose him, then. He couldn't die.

But it looked like he would anyway.

I stared at Jamie's feverish face, trying to imagine life in the caves without him.

Wanda broke her immotile pose to speak. "Jamie needs real medicines. The ones the souls use. We need to get him those." Her voice cracked from stress and disuse.

I whipped my head up to look at her. What a crazy thing for her to suggest. But, I reasoned, if she cared about Jamie as much as Melanie or I did, she would look at every possibility. Still, I'd never considered _that._

"We don't even know what those things do," Doc protested. "How they work..."

"Does it matter?" Wanda snapped. Her ferocity startled me. She sounded like...Mel, when she was angry. When it came to Jamie, at least, the two of them _were_ the same person. "They do work. They can save him."

Was that what it would take to heal Jamie? Risking our lives much more than normal for things we didn't know how to use?

That was something I'd never done—stage a holdup in a doctor's office. I'd never had to plan that kind of raid. It was one in which casualties were almost guaranteed; therefore we had never even contemplated one like it. But Jamie would die if we didn't do _something._ And Wanda was right—soul medicine was much more effective and plentiful than ours.

Jeb spoke before I could. "We can't get 'em, Wanda. We can only get into deserted places. There's always a bunch of your kind in a hospital, twenty-four hours a day. Too many eyes. We won't do Jamie any good if we get caught."

"Sure," Kyle interjected. "The centipedes will be only too happy to heal his body when they find us here—and make him one of them. Is that what you're after?"

Wanda's expression when she turned to Kyle was...frightening. She looked unstably angry, like she wanted to attack him. I wondered vaguely if this was even really _Wanda_ looking at him. Wanda was so peaceful. This expression looked like _Melanie._ Jamie's sickness must have had Wanda reacting irrationally.

She seemed to compose herself in order to speak again. Her voice was eerily calm and controlled. "There has to be a way."

Of course what she wanted was _possible,_ just not desirable. I began strategizing, seeing how we could surprise them, have the upper hand. "Maybe someplace small. The gun would make too much noise, but if there were enough of us to overwhelm them, we could use knives."

Jeb rejected my plan as Wanda held up her hands to stop me. "There's no way, kid. Somebody'd get off a call to the Seekers. Even if we were in and out, something like that would bring 'em down on us in force. We'd be hard-pressed to make it out at all. And they'd follow."

"Wait." Wanda tried to gain our attention back. "Can't you—"

Kyle talked over her. "I don't want the boy to die, either, but we can't risk everyone's lives for one person. People die here. It happens. We can't get crazy to save one boy."

Wanda raised her voice. "We _have to save him._"

"Hon," Jeb said patiently. "We can't just walk in there and ask."

Something changed in Wanda's face suddenly, like she'd realized something important she'd forgotten. "_You_ can't. But I can."

Everyone froze.

I stopped breathing.

So this was it. The moment Kyle was waiting for. The moment that I'd stopped thinking would come.

Wanda was asking to leave.

Sometimes I could almost forget that she was a soul, that she was one of the conquering species. She was so...human. Normal. Now, though—no chance.

Wanda could live here, as a fairly ordinary member of the community. She hadn't come out here to turn us in, and now that she was here, she was happy enough with the people she loved that she hadn't tried to escape.

Until now.

In that moment, I couldn't see anything in her but a threat. An alien threat.

Wanda spoke musingly, hardly to anyone but herself and perhaps Melanie. Her expression was rapt. "They aren't suspicious. Not at all. Even if I'm a horrible liar, they would never suspect me of anything. They wouldn't be listening for lies, of course not; I'm one of them. They would do anything to help me."

So why wouldn't she do anything to help _them?_

"I'd say I got hurt hiking or something. And then I'd find a way to be alone and I'd take as much as I could hide. Think of it! I could get enough to heal everyone here. To last for years. And Jamie would be fine! Why didn't I think of this before? Maybe it wouldn't have been too late even for Walter."

The excitement was plain on her face as she finally looked up. She didn't seem to be expecting the reception her idea would have; her face fell when she saw ours.

I knew we all looked the same way. Scared to death. Unnerved by her suggestion. And utterly unwilling to let her follow through. We'd skirted around the fact that she wasn't allowed to leave for so long. I'd sort of hoped the topic would never come up again. But now she was _asking_ to go outside.

Wanda stared at all of us incredulously, as if she couldn't believe we didn't trust her. Couldn't believe that we all thought she would hurt us. That we hadn't forgotten what she was. And I wondered, again, if she was a professional actor trained to live with humans to gain their confidence and affections.

It was just like the beginning.

"Please," she whispered. "It's the only way to save him."

Jamie. She was thinking of Jamie, how to save the boy both she and her body loved. Was she thinking of _only_ Jamie? Or was this...the opportunity?

"Patient, isn't it?" Kyle hissed. "Bided its time well, don't you think?"

He was speaking my thoughts. With much more venom, that was true, but the same fear and suspicion were there. I didn't want to be as contemptuous, as spitefully skeptical as him. I tried to step back and think rationally.

Wanda wanted—no, didn't want, thought it was necessary—to go outside and _ask_ for medicine, something that we couldn't steal. She was the only one who could, with her silver eyes. Jamie was very sick, and Wanda's fears that he would die mirrored mine. She wanted him to live, more than anything, and she was willing to do whatever it took to keep him breathing.

But she was asking for our trust, and we wouldn't give it to her. For good reason.

She was a soul, and souls were treacherous. No, she hadn't betrayed us, but who was to say that wasn't only because we hadn't allowed her to?

Melanie might have been able to influence Wanda emotionally, but she had no real control, except in those moments that would not help in this situation. Wanda, if she was let out, could do as she pleased.

What would she do?

"Doc?" she pleaded, turning to him. He, if anyone, knew the necessity of healing Jamie. How badly he needed the medicine.

Doc didn't look at Wanda. He seemed ashamed of his answer. "Even if there was any way we could let you outside, Wanda, I just couldn't trust drugs I don't understand."

He was afraid of the medicine. Afraid of what it could do. He had seen its unnatural effects firsthand, working in a hospital while it was taken over. Was that the only reason he was against it?

He went on, mumbling now. "Jamie's a tough kid. His system will fight this off."

And I could tell, in Doc's words, in his tone, how uncertain he was about Jamie. The kid might have been tough, but we lived off crudely grown bread and vegetables most of the time here. Probably none of us got all the nutrients we needed. Jamie's health was no better than any of ours. And his system didn't seem to be fighting anything off.

Doc was saying that Jamie would be okay, not because he truly believed it, but because he didn't have enough faith in Wanda to help him. Despite his fascination with her, despite the fact that he liked her as a person and even felt bad about hurting her feelings, he didn't trust her to not turn us in.

"We'll go out again, Wanda," Ian told her resolutely. "We'll find something. We won't come back until we do."

"That's not good enough," Wanda whispered plaintively. Her voice wavered, and I could see tears glistening in her eyes. She was becoming demoralized, hurt by our distrust, as we rejected her.

Then she looked at me.

"Jared."

She was asking for _my_ support. Permission, trust, help. From _me_ specifically.

"You know. You _know_ I would never let anything hurt Jamie. You know I can do this. _Please._"

I met her beseeching gaze, trying to sort out her motivations. She loved Jamie. I knew that. If we put her back with her fellow souls, would that love be enough to keep her here with us? Keep her from revealing our secret outpost?

Maybe.

But did I know she could _do_ it?

I stared into her earnest silver-rimmed eyes, contemplating. Even if she didn't _want_ to give us away, Wanda was terrible at deception, at pretending. She could easily slip up without even realizing, because being transparently honest was just in her nature. If she, inadvertently or not, were to reveal anything about _humans,_ it would all be over. They would probe her for information, maybe even take Wanda out of Melanie, put a Seeker-soul in her, and find us.

And besides...I _didn't_ believe her motivations were so pure. Not this time.

Before, when...when she'd seen us, I was sure she would have run away, if she'd known the way out. This was too close in time to that episode—she surely hadn't regained her confidence in us yet. Even if she did want to help Jamie, this would be a perfect way to dispose of the _monsters_ here.

My gaze traveled around the room, looking at everyone's faces. Trudy, beside Jamie's sickbed, wore an apprehensive expression. Kyle's face was distorted into a mask of outrage mingling with fear. Doc was still staring at the ground, and Ian, his arm around Wanda, just looked helpless. Even Jeb, her first supporter, didn't look willing on this.

Everyone mingling outside the door—listening to our discussion, of course—looked scared. Scared of Wanda. Scared that one of us would consent to take her out of the caves.

It wasn't possible. Even if I wanted to, I knew that taking Wanda outside would cause an uproar. People like Kyle wouldn't stop at keeping her here; someone would hurt her—and Mel—to stop her. Maybe do worse.

I wondered distractedly what Mel was thinking right now. Was she in favor of this? She must know what Wanda was thinking, what she really wanted to do outside the caves.

I couldn't ask her, though. I couldn't tell what Wanda was thinking. She was a huge liability, one I didn't want to trust.

But Jamie was...dying.

I looked at the kid's face, the swollen cut on his leg. Was Jamie worth all the repercussions and potential dangers and mishaps that this journey could cause?

My voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper. "No, Wanda. No."

As soon as I spoke, everyone seemed to breathe again. Trudy's face relaxed, and she began to refill Jamie's compress with ice again.

Wanda fell to her knees, crushed by our lack of confidence. She dragged herself to Jamie's mattress, nudging Trudy aside and tending to Jamie herself. She murmured his name over and over, chanting it like a song. Tears dripped one by one onto Jamie's skin as she mourned—mourned our rejection, mourned Jamie's impending...

Had I just doomed him?

Kyle stomped from the room. Those standing in the doorway slowly trudged away, a few at a time. Sharon had been watching Jamie and Doc with rare, genuine concern in her eyes, but as she left, I heard the growl of her mutinous mutter. Others echoed her, angry at Wanda's audacity.

Ian moved closer to Wanda, who was still keening softly, "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie..." He crouched beside her, placing a hand on her arm.

"I know you wouldn't. But Wanda...they'll kill you if you try. After what happened—in the hospital—they're afraid you have good reason to destroy us..." He trailed off, adding doubtfully, "Anyway, he'll be all right. You have to trust that."

We were fresh out of trust here.

Wanda ignored Ian, and he left, shooting me a rueful, sympathetic look. Jeb shuffled from the room, mumbling, "Sorry, kid" to Wanda. Doc stayed, sitting in the corner of the room. He couldn't do anything, but he couldn't seem to leave Wanda to let Jamie burn up alone.

I didn't have anything else to do here. Wanda was stung, horribly stricken by our reaction. Mine, especially. She did not look at me as I quietly exited the room, leaving Jamie to die.

I'd failed him again.

...

I went to the hospital.

There were so many possible backlashes to what Wanda had wanted. What we had denied her.

Ian was right. If anyone thought that we were going to take Wanda outside, they _would_ kill her. I couldn't risk Melanie, not to take Wanda on a dubious exercise of trust.

If she were to make it out successfully...there was the question of her competence. If she would be able to do what was necessary. And then, of course, the question of her loyalty. If she would be _willing_ to do what was necessary. Or if she would take the steps to return to her comfortable life with souls. Abandoning and betraying us in the process.

And we knew nothing about alien medicine in the first place. We couldn't use whatever she stole.

Too many risks, even for something we needed so badly. Yes, I told myself, as I entered the southern cave, that was why I had told her no.

* * *

><p>And was going to do it anyway.<p>

I had realized that if anyone _knew_ Wanda was going to leave the cave, they'd take desperate measures. And even if they _thought_ she was going to leave, they would watch her like a hawk. Would not let her out of someone's sight for a moment.

But they had all left when I refused her. Let their guards down. So now I could do it, because no one was expecting it—I could take her myself. Sneak her out.

I knew it was a gamble, against all odds. Dangerous on all counts. So many things could go wrong. I never would have taken the risk if...if it wasn't Jamie.

His chances of survival were dwindling. His fever kept getting worse. He needed help. Wanda was right; the souls' medicine was our best bet. Therefore Wanda was our best bet.

She was the biggest risk of all, and I was completely aware of that. I was going to put my trust, my life, the lives of all the humans, in the hands of someone I had continually thought wanted to kill me. Maybe she didn't. But she was still dangerous.

I did know something, though, something that gave me just enough faith in her and this mission I was now planning: I knew how much she loved Jamie. She was as devastated as I at how sick he was. Her honesty had been transparently obvious when she'd begged for a chance—she truly wanted him to get better. I believed that.

But would her dedication to her body's brother be enough to keep her allegiant? Even if so, she still was not built for this—sneaking, deception.

This raid would be tricky. Too dicey to even be considered worth it.

But Jamie could die either way, if Wanda failed or betrayed us—or if we didn't let her try at all. So we might as well try. And, I figured, living without Jamie would be harder than dying to help him.

If anyone was to take Wanda out of the caves, I was the best person to do so. She knew me well, and she'd cooperate with me. Besides, if she really was planning something, I was cynical and watchful enough to be able to stop her—someone like Ian probably wouldn't.

I'd have to plan this very carefully, though. I would definitely have to wait until tonight, when everyone had gone to bed. I would need weapons—my knife, definitely, and the gun, if I could swing it...

It was maybe an hour until dinnertime. I had plenty to time to make preparations. Doc would be staying in our room, most likely, and he was a light sleeper. If I was going to get Wanda from the room, I'd have to make sure he didn't follow. I'd probably have to subdue him in some way.

And Wanda...even if I took her outside, I wasn't showing her the way out. I'd have to hide her eyes and therefore carry her out to expedite the process.

The Jeep was stored right now with the bigger vehicles, but I knew it wouldn't be the best thing to take. If we were going to act a part of civilization, we'd need a nondescript car, probably one of our sedans.

I worked it all out, sitting in the hospital alone, as the sun fell. We didn't have any time to travel as far as we normally did. Tucson was not far; in fact, we never went there because it was too close to home. But I was breaking all the rules tonight, wasn't I?

Wanda needed new clothes; the ones she was wearing now were tattered hand-me-downs. Our inconspicuous, innocuous cache was several miles away, so we'd have to get there in the Jeep, which was about ten miles from here... This was going to take several hours.

Several hours alone with Wanda. Several hours for her to run away. To betray me.

Oh, man. What if she _did?_

I'd never be able to return to this place again, human or not. Jamie, if he recovered, would have no one.

I was scared. No raid had ever frightened me as much as this one.

But I was going through with it. I had to trust that Wanda would come through. For Jamie.

I couldn't let my fear show. I had to leave the southern wing, to go eat dinner and retrieve everything I needed. No one could guess what I was planning.

My face was completely smooth as I came out of the black tunnel into the main plaza. No one took any particular notice of me.

As I ate my soup, a few people—Reid, Trudy, Carol—offered their...condolences. For Jamie.

I didn't acknowledge them.

After I ate and people began retiring, I started preparing unobtrusively. First I headed to the bathing rooms. There was a basket of laundry by the river, freshly washed with stinging, acidic cactus soap. Toward the bottom, I found a large black t-shirt—it must have been Kyle's, from the size—that was worn ragged, nearly in tatters. This would do nicely for a blindfold for Wanda.

If he knew, I thought dryly, Kyle would be eager to lend his shirt for the cause.

Next, I stopped by the small crevice where we stored weapons and tools. We didn't actually have many weapons, save a machete and some knives, but I only looked for one in particular—mine.

My hunting knife, the one I'd threatened Melanie with when I first met her, the one I'd taken from my father's body as he lay dying, was kept in here for safety purposes. But I needed it now. This would be an asset if it came that I had to threaten Wanda.

I snuck my spoils back to the hospital, the one place I was guaranteed solitude. I did some altering on the shirt I'd stolen, slicing it up and tailoring it into a blindfold. I kept the extra cloth for the chloroform I retrieved from Doc's desk.

I also took a small capsule, full of things that rattled slightly when I picked it up. I didn't want to think about what was in there, but I removed the things I needed and placed them in my pocket. They wouldn't make any noise.

Hours passed. The moon was bright, creating spotlights of muted silver all around the room.

It must have been midnight when I finally set out, but I was in no danger of becoming tired. I was sustained by adrenaline and stress, sick with worry about Jamie, about what I was about to do...

No one was out. My quiet footsteps seemed to make too much noise in the echoey caverns. I rolled my weight from my heels to the balls of my feet silently, heading first to Jeb's room.

Jeb was snoring in his room. I could barely make out his gun, in its strap, resting in the corner. Soundlessly I took it and darted out, slinging the belt across my back. Now I could stop anyone trying to chase after us, from a distance.

I could hear Doc snoring quietly as I approached my room. I strapped the sheathed knife to my own belt and shook some chloroform into the cloth.

_Here we go._

The moon, filtering through cracks in the ceiling, revealed Wanda's curled silhouette, still folded in the same position beside Jamie. She whispered his name even now, her voice thin and strained from hours of murmuring. She didn't see me come in.

Doc woke up when I pressed the cloth over his face. He shouted through my hand, trying woozily to fight me off. I fended his flailing arms away with one hand, squeezing the chloroform to his face even harder, willing him to breathe deeply enough.

And he did. After just a few seconds, he went limp, and I let him fall back to the ground, snoring more loudly than before.

Wanda didn't say anything, but I heard her panicky breathing. I'd scared her.

"Let's go," I told her. "We don't have time to waste."

Her breathing spiked as she processed who I was, why I was here. Then she quickly leapt to her feet, tottering on her numb legs. "What did you do to Doc?" she demanded in a furious whisper.

"Chloroform. It won't last long," I warned her. It was now or never.

I heard a rustling, then the rush of water as she poured what was left in the cooler onto Jamie. I flinched at the loud sound.

"Follow me." I strode from the room, down the hall, keeping close to the walls. She hurried behind me, nearly pressing herself into my back. I led her to the main plaza, hundreds of moons shimmering from the mirrors.

I offered her the altered shirt, and she nodded feverishly. "Yes, blindfold me."

She was willing, eager, to be blindfolded. Did that mean that she truly didn't care about learning the way out, that her intentions were nothing but good? I tied the blindfold in a sturdy knot over her eyes. When I let go of her, she began spinning. Spinning so she'd be disoriented.

At least she was trying to help.

I put my hands on her shoulders to halt her. "That's okay." Then I picked her up from the waist and slung her across my shoulder, potato-sack style. I didn't figure she'd be very comfortable there, but it couldn't be helped.

As I took off running for the storage corridor, I willed Melanie, inside Wanda, to steer the alien in the right direction. To keep her on the course she seemed to be on, helping us humans. Hopefully Mel and Jamie would be enough motivation.

The path to the outside was a steep, dark passageway. I ran down the rather slippery hill, then up a longer one, taking us out of the underground system. It took a long time, running with Wanda on my shoulder. She wasn't too awfully heavy, but I couldn't run very fast with Mel's body bouncing up and down with every step.

As we reached the end of the tunnel, the smell of sulfur disappeared, and the air changed from cool to hot in seconds. The moon shone brilliantly on the sand, turning the entire desert silvery white.

I set Wanda down, keeping a hold on her arm to steady her. "The ground is flat. Do you think you can run blindfolded?"

"Yes," she said at once.

Mel was a runner, so I set our new pace at nearly a sprint. Though she stumbled often, she kept stride with me well. I held her upright every time she tripped.

We were nowhere near safe yet, from the people in the caves. Doc surely must have woken up, maybe even before we'd gotten out. Surely he'd already alerted Jeb of my actions. And who knew if Jeb would wait to see if we'd return or...or send someone after us. Maybe someone would go on his own—like Kyle.

We had to keep going; we hadn't gotten far. Perhaps a mile. This wasn't going to work. We had to be faster.

I relayed the information to her as she struggled to maneuver over terrain she couldn't see. "If we can get to the Jeep...we'll be—in—in the clear." Talking was hard; I was gasping for air before I finished the sentence.

Her reply was just as raspy and breathless. "If...we can't?" she gasped.

I had to tell her. "'F they catch us...they'll kill you. Ian's right about that part."

Wanda did not react in fear, but rather pushed herself harder through the sand. I could sense her determination.

Maybe I _had_ been right in trusting her.

Now, if we got away, my biggest worry would be simply if she _could_ accomplish this mission.

She fell against me again, and I made a quick, executive decision. "Going to take off the blindfold. You'll be faster."

"You sure?" she said. She sounded worried that I was revealing too much to her. She understood that she shouldn't know the geography, the path out.

"Don't...look around," I huffed. "'Kay?"

"Promise." She ducked her head in preparation.

My fingers fumbled with the blindfold for a second, then it slid off her head, and I stuck it in my pocket. I let go of her completely, though I watched her closely, running headlong over the sand with her eyes at her feet. Already her tread was quicker, more confident. I sped up, glad now that we could both run at our maximum pace.

I wasn't about to let us get caught because I was distracted by watching Wanda. "You hear anything?" I inquired of her.

"No," she replied after a moment.

I didn't either. It seemed we would get away, from the humans who wanted to stop us, at least.

We didn't speak anymore as we made our desperate exodus from the caves, our flight toward the world that was so dangerous to us—me, at least.

I was deep in thought. I had to give Wanda a pill, I knew. It was the only way to keep her safe from being taken out of Mel or questioned or whatever they'd do to her. But I didn't want to. Like with Jamie on the last raid, I didn't want to give Wanda something that could end Mel's life forever. I didn't want to be the reason she died.

But she was going into certain danger, almost certain capture. It couldn't be helped.

We tore through the desert, making good time. As more time passed and still no one pursued us, I began to relax. The humans must have been waiting, very uneasily, for our return, rather than chasing us down. Now we had one fewer set of enemies.

Gradually our bodies became overexerted, and we had to slow down. Wanda was nearly wheezing. Her eyes were still fixed on her feet, but as we neared the garage, I knew I couldn't let her see. Just a precaution.

When I could see the carefully camouflaged opening, I reached over and put my hand over her eyes. My hands slowed her down, and she obeyed me numbly.

"We're okay now," I gasped, trying to regain use of my lungs. "Just ahead." I guided her into the opening, stopping her right at the passenger door of the Jeep. "Get in."

I darted around the back, making sure the tarps were well attached to the bumper before I hopped in the driver's seat. Wanda was still clambering in, examining the dashboard. I knew she and Mel must remember this vehicle.

Removing the blindfold from my pocket, I tied the cloth over Wanda's eyes again, so she couldn't see the landscape around this place. I quietly placed the gun on the backseat, within my reach but not Wanda's.

As I started the car, I hated the scream of the engine. This was not a subtle vehicle, not at all. Driving toward civilization, I kept close to the rock formations. The tarps behind us erased our tracks, but the dust cloud we were raising still worried me. _Nobody_ could find us.

"We're going to Tucson," I informed Wanda. "We never raid there; it's too close. But we don't have time for anything else. I know where a small hospital is, not too deep into town."

"Not Saint Mary's?" she asked, her tone suddenly alert and...fearful.

"No," I reassured her. But I had to ask. "Why?"

"I know someone there."

She knew someone? Where had she lived before...before she'd reappeared here? Mel had been captured in Chicago. Why did she know someone in Tucson?

And that brought up another point. The reason that we traveled so far to kidnap souls was so the missing persons search would not extend even into our state. Wanda had disappeared around here, only a few months ago, though it seemed like longer.

What if they were still looking for her?

"Will you be recognized?" I asked her.

She didn't hesitate. "No. No one will know my face. We don't have wanted people, not like you did."

"Okay," I sighed, my anxiety somewhat assuaged. Another thing I didn't have to worry about.

This next part would be a real test, the step I was about to take. I took one of the capsules from my pocket and placed it in her palm. I curled her fingers around it, never taking my eyes off the windshield. "Keep that close to you."

"What is it?" she wondered, rolling it in her hand.

I evaded the answer, instead instructing her further. "If they guess that you're..." Lying. A traitor. Trying to betray someone. "...with us, if they're going to put someone else in Mel's body, you put that in your mouth and bite down hard."

"Poison?" she probed. Her voice was still businesslike, very calm and self-possessed. Not at all disturbed, disconcerted, that I was asking her to kill herself.

It was hard enough for me. I was telling her to...to kill Mel. "Yes." And she would, if she had to. I could go back to the caves alone, having lost Melanie and having to be ready to...to bury Jamie. This could go wrong so many ways.

She laughed. It was a nervous, high-pitched sound. Almost hysterical.

It wasn't quite the reaction I expected from her, being so focused. "It's not a joke, Wanda. If you can't do it, then I have to take you back." And I _couldn't_ take her back, not without her having proved herself. They would hurt her if she had gone outside but hadn't been tested, tempted to betray us. There was no going back at his point, not until we were successful. And who knew if we actually _would_ succeed.

"No, no," she said hastily, forcing herself to sober. "I know I can. That's why I'm laughing."

She had finally found her sense of humor, and it was very strange. "I don't get the joke."

"Don't you see?" She looked blindly in my direction. The half of her face I could see was very contemplative. "For millions of my own kind, I've never been able to do that. Not for my own...children. I was always too afraid to die that final time."

Ah. She was speaking of her own reproduction. The choice she had to make that would kill her but give a million new souls life. She was too...scared? To do that? She was so brave about everything—not death, though, apparently.

"But I can do it for one alien child," she said, seeming puzzled, confounded, by this fact. "It doesn't make any sense."

_She_ didn't make any sense.

"Don't worry, though," she declared. "I can die to protect Jamie."

"I'm trusting you to do just that," I said tightly. My trust was stretched to the limit—I did not know at all if I was making the right choice.

She nodded absently, taking a deep breath—to calm herself, prepare herself, perhaps. Then she spoke again. "Jared, I don't look right. For walking into a hospital."

I had already thought of that. The cache we were traveling to had some clothes, ones we used when we had to look like we belonged. I knew we had some women's apparel. "We've got better clothes stashed with the less-conspicuous vehicles; that's where we're headed now." I saw the familiar craggy rock towering above us. As we passed below it, I told her, "About five more minutes."

She remained silent until I pulled into the man-made cave. It was so inconspicuous, so sneaky of Jeb. It honestly looked natural, untouched by man. When the guys had shown me this on my first raid here, my response had been, _What am I supposed to be looking at?_

I parked the Jeep in a tight corner so we'd be able to pull out of the opening in another car. Immediately, I unknotted the blindfold from Wanda's head. She lowered her eyes again so as to not see anything she wasn't supposed to.

Fearing for time, I reassured her, "You don't have to keep your eyes down. There's nothing here to give us away, just in case this place was ever discovered."

I jumped out of the Jeep, meeting Wanda around the back. I prodded her toward the camouflaged tarp in the corner and pulled it aside so I could get some new clothes for her. Checking the sizes on a cotton shirt and a pair of khakis, I tossed them in her direction. "Put them on."

She stood motionless for a second, holding the clothes in her fists. She glanced at them, then back up at me. I couldn't read her expression in the low light.

What was she doing? Why wasn't she changing?

After a moment, I heard her exhale—a sharp, flustered sound—and she turned her back to me. She pulled off her shirt and ducked into the new one, shooting a furtive glance over her shoulder at me.

"Oh," I muttered. I understood now. "I'll...I'll get the car." I hurried off, feeling quite stupid.

I—however embarrassing it was—was totally accustomed to seeing Mel change clothes. Of course, I'd seen her do more than that. I hadn't thought anything of her changing in front of me now.

But Wanda wasn't as comfortable around me. Even in the dim light of the cave, where I could hardly see her, she wanted to preserve her own modesty, separate from Mel's. I didn't blame her; I only wished I had realized sooner.

Pausing to retrieve the rifle from the Jeep and to take an athletic backpack from the storage pile—Wanda would need a bag to make off with medicine—I headed for one of our cars. The gray sedan's keys were in the ignition. Tossing the gun in the backseat again, I turned the key and checked to make sure the gas tank was full.

I pulled the car out of its hole and quickly moved the tarps to its bumper. By the time I got back in the car and drove it to Wanda, she'd changed her outfit. Now, though she still looked rather scruffy, she could pass for a normal soul.

Why wasn't she _normal,_ like all the rest? What made her so different?

I opened the door for her. "Let's go."

"Hold on." She held up a hand and knelt by the side view mirror of the car. Checking her reflection. She flipped her hair this way and that, stroking her cheek absentmindedly. She bit her lip.

"Jared, I can't go in with my face like this." She sounded rueful, fearful of my response.

"What?" I said, a little more sharply than I'd meant to. I knew we needed to cooperate with each other completely on this experimental raid. But we were pressed for time, and she was worried about her appearance. Then I saw what she was pointing at.

Her scar. The huge, lumpy wound that multiple injuries had left on her face. She was fine now, of course, and I barely noticed the asymmetry anymore.

But their clean, perfect society would.

She exemplified the predicament. "No soul would have a scar like this. They would have had it treated. They'll wonder where I've been. They'll ask questions."

I couldn't believe this had crossed her mind _now,_ now that I couldn't take her back. If she couldn't walk in to a Healing facility, what had been the point in bringing her this far?

"Maybe you should have thought of this _before_ I snuck you out," I said, my tone full of ire. "If we go back now, they'll think it was a ploy for you to learn the way out."

Her voice became fiercer. "We're _not_ going back without the medicine for Jamie."

"What do you propose we do then, Wanda?" I retorted. This was a dead end. After all we'd gone through tonight, after the risks I'd taken, the danger I'd put us both in, we would be stopped by a stupid scar. Our inexorable, immutable obstacle was a minor facial disfigurement.

She sighed. Her breath trembled a little. "I need...a rock. You're going to have to hit me."

My jaw went slack, and I felt my eyes bug out. "_Hit_ you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Whew! And there it is! I do really love this part because this is the first time Jared is putting his trust on the line. In all his and Wanda's time together, they've always been on the inside, where he's more or less in control. This is where he finally gives her a little bit of power to see what she does with it. In my opinion, this is where <em>their<em> relationship really starts to take off. :-D (No, I don't ship Jared and Wanda; I just think their relationship/romance is an amazing, curious thing!)**

**As always, leave any suggestions or comments in your reviews. Thanks to everyone who's already done this!**

**Who else wants a Host sequel? As a stand-alone novel, the story is brilliant. But of course we can't just let these characters live happily ever after!**

**On a completely unrelated and random note, I am running low on writing ideas (not like I do a ton of writing anyway). But if anybody wants something written or has a prompt, I'd love to hear about it. Gotta keep my skills sharp!**

**Anyway...Thanks for reading KylerM! Would you guys hold me accountable to post another chapter before a month's out?**


	15. A Powerful Tool

**Heya, I'm back! Writing this was _really_ fun, by the way. It didn't take long, given the length...the story part is ten thousand words long. O_O**

**I'm proud of it. Enjoy Chapter Fifteen. :-)**

* * *

><p>"Please don't ask me to do this."<p>

"Listen, it doesn't matter. It's just what has to be done."

Wanda was asking me to _hit_ her. And Mel. After all I'd done, after all the guilt that I'd drowned in for hurting them, she had shoved this rough, heavy rock in my hand and ordered me to whack her one.

"I don't want to."

"Hit me," she repeated, more emphatically this time.

"Wanda..." I tried.

"We don't have time. I'd do it myself, but I can't get the angle right. There's no other way."

I wouldn't just be hitting Wanda—whatever I did would hurt Mel too. I had hurt her too many times, unaware that she was even there. How could I hit Wanda now, knowing Mel would feel it, too?

"I don't think I can...do it." Of all the things I'd forced myself to do on the run, I couldn't bring myself to willingly hurt the woman I loved. I couldn't.

"For Jamie, even?" Wanda coaxed. She had her face pressed up against the seat, mashing her eyes shut. Bracing herself for...for the blow I would deliver.

This was for Jamie. It was the only way we could save him. If I couldn't hit Wanda, to make her presentable in a roundabout way, then she couldn't get the medicine that would save his life. Not in time.

But Mel...how could I? I felt like I'd be betraying her. I'd been trying to make _up_ for hurting her, not hurt her more.

"You just have to get the first few layers of skin off. Just hide the scar, that's all."

I imagined doing it: holding the stone tightly in my fist, bringing my hand toward her as though throwing a baseball, and smashing the rock into her face with more force and damage than a flat-out punch would bring.

I imagined her reaction: her gasps, maybe screams, of pain, tears leaking from her eyes, blood pooling from her cheek into her shaking hand...

Silver eyes or not, I couldn't shake that image of Mel hurt, in pain, by my hand.

"Jamie..." Wanda said softly. She was trying to hurry me along, trying to remind me of why we were doing this. Why I should be doing what she was telling me to, right now.

Could I hurt them?

"Mel says do it now," Wanda urged. Her voice was fierce, her tone flat, and I could tell she wasn't lying.

Mel wanted me do it. If this had been _her_ in front of me, she would be demanding that I hit her, disregarding my qualms and feelings altogether.

Maybe if I just raked the rock down her face to remove the scarred tissue...or would that hurt her more? How could I make this painless for her? There was no way. Hadn't she had enough pain from me already?

"And make sure you do it hard enough. Get it all the first time."

She sounded so businesslike, as though she was telling me to write something down, or do something equally mundane. Not commit an act of violence that, in a different world, would be construed as domestic abuse.

If she could treat it like business, so could I. I'd done many things I'd felt uncomfortable with on raids. I'd had to get used to stealing, to lying, and more recently, to kidnapping souls. This was just another thing I had to force myself to do.

"Do it, Jared!"

_Just business. Just raid business._

I inhaled sharply, raising the rock in my hand. _Pretend you're not actually hitting her,_ I told myself. _Pretend you're breaking a window, or smashing a lock open, or...or punching Kyle, anything else._

I brought my fist down.

The blow vibrated in my fingers, and I yanked my hand back immediately. I tossed the rock out my open window, never taking my eyes off the girl in front of me, who had recoiled from my blow, hugging the seat even more tightly to keep herself in one piece.

She grunted belatedly, a jerky, pained noise that was almost a sob. She gave a small, choked cough that didn't mask her welling tears, or her shocked hurt.

"Wanda? Mel?" I asked frantically, scrambling to collect myself. I couldn't believe I'd just done that. "I'm sorry!"

I leaned across the seat, gathering her into my arms. She rested her face on my chest, still breathing raggedly to hide her crying.

I loved the feeling of holding her. I hadn't held Mel like this, intimately, comfortingly, since she had left. It was nice to know that at least I could comfort her, after hurting her like I had.

I never wanted to let go.

"S'okay," she whispered, a tremor in her voice. "We're okay. Did you get it all?" Her voice broke on the last word.

I didn't want to look at it, the wound I'd just given her. It would make me feel worse. But I pulled back from our embrace and inspected her face.

It was ugly, raw, nearly double the area of the scar, her entire cheek oozing dark blood. I couldn't suppress my gasp of horror. "I took half your face off! I'm so sorry." I couldn't think to say anything else.

"No, that's good," she whimpered, reaching gingerly up to catch a drop of blood on her fingertips. "That's good. Let's go."

"Right," I muttered. We had to go now and get help for Jamie before this raid outlived its usefulness. I propped Wanda back into her seat, making sure she was comfortable. She leaned her head on the headrest, taking deep breaths.

At least, I thought as I pulled the car out of its hiding place, now Wanda would be spared the trouble of explaining _why_ she needed medicine.

I left the lights off, of course, but this path on the wash was very easy. I switched on the air conditioning for some relief from the sweltering desert heat.

Wanda still didn't seem very interested in our route. She flipped the visor mirror down and studied her bloody face. The moonlight turned her newly wounded cheek into a dark, dripping mass. After a second, she whispered to me, "Good job."

"How much pain are you in?" I asked her, my voice still rather rough from the stress.

"Not much," she said faintly. "Anyway...it won't hurt much longer. How far are we from Tucson?"

As she spoke, I became aware of the gray strip coming up directly in front of us. I stepped on the brake, pulling up behind a front of scraggly desert bushes. We'd reached the road.

The pavement before us was dark, devoid of cars. Making absolutely sure that no headlights were heading toward or away from the glow on the horizon that was Tucson, I got out and unchained the tarps from the bumper. No need for them on asphalt.

I ran over the route to the doctor's office quickly in my head, preparing to pull out on the highway, but Wanda stopped me before I could turn on the lights. "Wait. Let me drive."

My expression was incredulous as I turned to look at her. I couldn't see her expression in the shadowy light. Why did she want to drive? Was she planning something?

Would she take me to a Seeking facility, instead of the Healing facility? Would she flag someone down on the street and tell them she had a human in her car? What was she thinking?

"It can't look like I _walked_ to the hospital like this—too many questions. I have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?"

I weighed this. Her explanation _did_ sound legitimate. But I couldn't shake my suspicion. I had never trusted a soul before, and now I was giving her the wheel of a car—something that greatly empowered her. What if I was making a huge mistake?

I wished I could ask Mel what Wanda was really thinking, if the alien inside her was really in earnest. But of course I'd have to go through Wanda to do that, and who knew if she'd tell the truth?

If I really wanted to save Jamie, I would have to trust Wanda. Unreservedly.

"Okay." I reversed the car, watching her carefully. "Okay, I'll hide." I couldn't help adding, though: "But if you take us somewhere I don't tell you to go..." I trailed off, leaving the outcome to her imagination.

She finished my sentence flatly. "Shoot me." Her voice was emotionless, and I knew she didn't doubt I would.

Did that mean she planned to obey me?

I remained silent, getting out and fishing a blanket from under the tarp in the trunk. If I curled up, I could fit completely under it.

"Turn right at the road," I instructed her, getting in the backseat. She drove forward with a tentative, halting hesitancy I associated with new drivers and senior citizens.

I situated myself on the seat, pulling the blanket over me. It took some wriggling to get in a position where I could see where we were going but not reveal too much of myself to anyone outside the car. And of course, the gun had to be within my reach and easily maneuvered into position.

"Lights," I alerted Wanda. She was driving almost completely blind.

After a few seconds, I saw the pavement ahead of us become illuminated, and she began to speed up.

I worked on controlling my breathing as we sped toward the city. The enemy's city. I was going into heavily populated enemy territory with one of the enemy as my only ally. I had to stay calm, though. I was tougher than my nerves. I had to be.

But this journey seemed eerily familiar—it was almost like the time I had dropped Mel off on the outskirts of Chicago and then almost lost her forever.

Would I lose her tonight? Would we both lose?

Then I noticed that we'd stopped accelerating, that Wanda was still going rather slowly. "You could drive a little faster," I encouraged her. We were in a hurry, and I couldn't help but think she was stalling a bit.

"I'm right at the limit," she argued.

_I hate the limit._ "Souls don't speed?" Surely she wouldn't get in trouble. No one ever got in trouble for anything in this society.

She gave a weak, high-pitched laugh. "We obey all laws, traffic laws included."

It was odd—the souls had never officially abolished our governments, our laws. But gradually, the justice system had faded to nonexistence, the legislation withdrawing from power until they no longer made actual decisions. Yet society continued normally—better than normally, actually—with crime rates dropping and corruption dwindling. And now they had no offenders of laws, no criminals, no prison system that I could see. Just Seekers. Seekers hunting human fugitives. We were the only criminals.

Wanda could bridge that gap, though, between humans and souls, and it looked as though she really was dedicated to helping us, the fugitives, the criminals. Now I just had to see if she was capable. If she could pull off a covert mission, a real one.

If she could, I would never distrust her again.

We reached the city in good time, though more slowly than I would've liked to. I directed Wanda through the streets, glad that most souls seemed to follow a respectable curfew. There were no hoodlums among aliens, either.

I watched the buildings pass by above me, observed the neon lights of shops, the lit apartment windows, the painted storefronts. This was our world, what we'd all been so accustomed to, what we'd grown up with. I ought to have felt right at home here, in civilization, but instead all I felt was fear.

In spite of my overwhelming urge to cower under the seat, I managed to calmly guide Wanda exactly to the Healing facility, formerly a practitioner's building, where she parked in a dark corner of the lot, between two streetlight circles.

She too seemed calm as she put on her backpack, preparing to go in. Perhaps she was simply hiding her fear, like I was. Maybe Melanie was helping her—Mel had been on lots of raids.

Then she turned around to face me. "Quick," she said urgently. "Give me the knife."

What was she going to do with my knife? Was she going to _stab_ the doctors inside if they wouldn't give her medicine? Was that her plan? It wasn't so brilliant. "Wanda, I know you love Jamie, but I really don't think you could use it. You're not a fighter."

"Not for _them,_ Jared," she said sensibly. "I need a wound."

I gasped in shock. Was she planning to stab _herself?_ "You _have_ a wound. That's enough!"

"I need one like Jamie's," she explained. She sounded so rational, so logical and reasonable. Except what she was saying was insane. "I don't know enough about Healing. I have to see exactly what to do."

I should have known. This girl was a masochist.

"I would have done it before, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to drive."

"No," I said, trying to sound authoritative, but my voice was weak with shock. "Not again."

Her voice was stronger than mine. "Give it to me now. Someone will notice if I don't go inside soon." She held out her hand.

I had to think.

At least she wanted to do this herself, so I wouldn't be blamed for hurting her. Still, I didn't know if I could sit there and watch her stick a knife in herself.

The souls had very advanced medicine. The wounds that Doc created on our hostage souls' necks were ugly and would have been very painful, if the people had been awake. Yet Healers performed the same procedure quickly, painlessly, and successfully, leaving behind only a faint, pink scar.

Surely their medicines would work on knife wounds, too. And surely they would treat Wanda before they asked her what had happened.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any permanent damage.

I took the knife out of its sheath. "Be very careful. Not too deep."

"You want to do it?" she asked.

_"No,"_ I responded instantly. I didn't want _her_ to do it.

"Okay." She reached forward and took the knife by its handle cautiously. She weighed it in her hand, inspecting the blade. Then she braced her left arm against the door, placing the tip of the knife on her forearm. She turned her head, pressing it into the headrest again—to muffle her pain.

Her hand was shaking wildly, and I was sure she was going to balk. But then I heard her inhale deeply—it was almost a gasp—and I saw her arm push the knife downward.

And she screamed.

I heard the knife drop out of her hand, heard her agonized breaths rattle in and out. Each was its own cry of pain.

She'd really done it. She'd really just stabbed herself.

Blood began to drip down her arm, onto the seat. Faster and faster.

"Wanda!" I tried to shift from my hiding place, to reach for her. I wanted to hold her again, to ease her pain, to let her know that she would be all right.

Except I didn't know if she _would_ be all right. She'd hacked into her hand with abandon—like she was trying to cut it off. "Let me see!"

"Stay there," she ordered me. "Don't move."

I couldn't just stay put, after she'd just done that to herself. My arm pulled itself free of the blanket, stretching out to touch her.

She opened the door, nearly catapulting herself out onto the pavement. My fingers could barely reach to graze the back of her shirt before she choked, "I'll be right back," and slammed the car shut.

The abrupt silence was deafening. I couldn't even hear her walking away.

Suddenly panicked, I jerked my hand under the blanket, hiding myself from view. I was alone, vulnerable, defenseless. My only ally had just stumbled away from me, wounded, leaving me, a human fugitive, enclosed in a small space that all of the sudden seemed claustrophobic. The walls of the cars pressed in on me.

I huddled under the sweltering blanket, staring at the unmoving patterns of shadows on the floor. I was beginning to sweat from the heat of the plaid-patterned flannel, but I didn't dare move.

I couldn't see the doors of the clinic—I couldn't tell if Wanda had made it inside. Had she collapsed in the parking lot? Were they going to come out and help her? Would they look in her car?

I didn't doubt her loyalty a bit now; there was something about one injuring oneself not once but twice for a cause that magically erased any qualms about his or her dedication and loyalty. She didn't have to stab herself, or make me hit her with a rock. Those were things _she_ thought were necessary, things a traitor would not want to do. Only one thing would cause her to do her job so thoroughly, and that was Jamie. Us. Humans.

I didn't stop to sort through her motivations too deeply. They confused me. I remembered my doubts of her long ago, when I'd assumed she was a spy just because she was a soul—I had told myself there was no reason for her to come out to our home and not mean us harm.

That hadn't changed. There was still no reason why Wanda should choose to be loyal to us rather than her own kind. In fact, knowing what she did about us now, there was more reason than ever why she shouldn't. But she was.

She was, inexplicably, on our side.

Just because she was, though, our success wasn't guaranteed. Wanda was a terrible liar; not even Jamie could believe her if she wasn't telling the truth. What kind of lies was she telling the Healers inside the clinic? Were they believable? Was her deliverance of them believable?

What if they caught her? Would I have any warning before they were onto me, too? Would I even have time to swallow my pill?

If Wanda was caught...how would that make me _feel?_ Yes, I would mourn Melanie again, I would be devastated, but...wouldn't I mourn Wanda, too?

Jamie would. His reaction would be similar to when I'd told him Mel was really gone. He would be crushed. And Ian would never forgive me if I came back without Wanda. They both loved _her_—Wanda.

Couldn't I see their point?

A car passed by the parking lot, bathing me momentarily in light. I flinched, though the sound of the engine faded away quickly. I couldn't stop picturing getting caught. I couldn't stop thinking I would sit here, crouched on the seat, for hours, waiting for Wanda to come back, and she wouldn't come.

Could I make the decision to leave her behind, if I had to? I was practical enough for that, I thought. But...it was Mel. And my perceptions were warped by Mel.

I couldn't calculate how much time had passed. Five minutes? Ten? More? In my tense, jumpy state, every minute seemed like an hour. How long was too long? When should I assume she wasn't coming back? How would I know the mission had been a failure? And could even one of us make it back, if something went wrong?

Whatever happened, I hoped that the souls would be able to heal Wanda. If someone had been stabbed that deeply with a knife in the old days, that hand would most likely be useless afterward. I just hoped they would mend the injuries that she'd given herself—and that _we'd_ given her.

There was no warning, no prelude to the door opening again. When it did, I started violently, peeking like trapped prey through the blanket at the silhouette in the open door.

It was Wanda.

She unslung the backpack from her shoulders and tossed it into the passenger seat casually. I heard the unmistakeable rattle of something inside.

She'd gotten something.

The door shut, and the car turned on. She used both hands, both arms, normally. I asked her the first thing that popped into my head: "Are you okay?"

I really was losing my touch, I observed wryly. I was more worried about Wanda's well-being than the success of her mission.

She shushed me, looking straight ahead as she pulled out. "Wait."

I watched in disbelief as Wanda pulled through the parking lot, passing by the door and waving. I saw, with another jolt, the soul inside the clinic doing the same. "Making friends?"

As she pulled onto the road, I saw her crumple against the seat, exhausted or relieved or still scared or something. "All souls are friends," she said. Though she spoke at a normal volume, her voice wavered, an aftereffect of her nerve-wracking task.

She was driving back through the streets, effortlessly performing the drive here in reverse, without my direction. She'd either memorized the route or she had really good instincts.

I noticed this but didn't care. This whole thing had been a test, I realized, and she had passed. She had succeeded. She had stayed firm in her convictions. She didn't need my supervision. She didn't need anyone's direction or distrust or...anything. She was...incredible.

Like Mel.

But I was still worried about her. She had gone in there with some serious injuries. I was sure she hadn't heeded my warning not to stab herself too deeply. I hoped they'd treated it properly in the very few minutes she'd spent in there. "Are you all right?"

"I'm healed," she answered calmly.

"Let me see," I demanded. I had to be sure.

She held her arm out to me, under the light from the window. She was moving it fine. All the blood was gone. All that was there was a faint, practically invisible line not unlike the one on her neck.

_Wow._ Hopefully Jamie's infected wound would be healed just as easily.

I shoved the blanket aside and vaulted over the console, into the front seat beside her. The backpack was there; I moved it to sit down, then grabbed it again, curious. It seemed to be filled with small cylinders, bottles perhaps. None of them seemed to be particularly heavy.

I looked up at her, intending to ask about the contents, but then we passed the light of a streetlamp and I was shocked again. "Your face!"

"It's healed, too," she said nonchalantly. "Naturally."

I didn't know what I'd been expecting, perhaps scar tissue similar to her face before I'd hit her tonight. But her cheek, like her arm, was smooth and unblemished. As if the marks we'd left on her had been erased. Wiped away.

"Does it hurt?" I asked her. My hand reached for her involuntarily.

"Of course not," she said matter-of-factly. "It feels like nothing happened to it in the first place."

Hesitantly, I touched her face, running my fingers down the healed area. It was soft and warm, real skin. It was fine. She was fine.

"Did they suspect anything?" I continued with my interrogation. "Do you think they'll call the Seekers?"

"No—I told you they wouldn't be suspicious. They didn't even check my eyes. I was hurt, so they healed me."

The souls really _were_ gullible. I'd always seen them as suspicious, paranoid creatures who jumped to the conclusion of _humans_ at any disturbance. Maybe they were—but Wanda wasn't a disturbance. She was one of them. One of them, but on our side.

With her, we could get away with anything.

"What did you get?" I wondered, opening the bag.

"The right things for Jamie, if we get back in time..." She trailed off anxiously, looking at the clock on the dashboard for some indication that we weren't too late.

The backpack was full of bottles, white bottles with simple black labels. I picked one up. The contents were light, and they didn't make any noise when I shook the tube.

"And more for the future," Wanda went on, glancing over at me. "I only took what I understood."

I supposed she _had_ been smart to give herself a knife wound, because now she did understand exactly what Jamie needed. "We'll get back in time," I reassured her. It hadn't even taken an hour, once we got started. I had expected the raid to be much more complicated. Much more...I had expected...

I realized I hadn't expected us to come back. My plans, my visions for the mission hadn't extended this far. They had...trailed off at the Healing clinic.

That was...disturbing. Why had I let us go on a suicidal venture?

To distract myself, I read the label if the container I held. It confused me—it wasn't a medical word. "Smooth?"

"Not a necessity," she explained. "But I know what it does, so..."

So she'd taken it. She had stolen medicine. Stolen from the souls, while they smiled at her, helped her, even gave her friendly little waves. They were completely unaware and unsuspecting of her agenda. Wanda, our resident soul, could easily manipulate their innocence.

I had just discovered a powerful tool.

My gaze turned to back her spoils. "Clean..." I muttered, reading more of the labels. "Seal...Heal...No Pain?" I could understand that one perfectly. "Does it work?"

She laughed giddily. Of course she could allow herself to be a little silly now. She had just broken down a huge barrier for us.

"It's amazing," she said. "If you stab yourself, I could show you...that's a joke," she added hastily.

"I know." She was completely hysterical now. She was making jokes.

I couldn't tear my eyes from her. She had come through. She'd done what I needed her to do. Been what I needed her to be. And I couldn't believe it.

She noticed my stare. "What?"

"You did it."

"Wasn't that the idea?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, but..." I hated to tell her I'd thought we were going on a suicide mission. "I guess I didn't really think we were going to...make it out."

"You didn't?" she said. She didn't sound insulted, or upset, or angry. Just bewildered. "Then why...why did you let me try?"

My voice was quieter, more intimate. "I figured it was better to die trying than to live without the kid." I couldn't have let him die without having given my all. I couldn't have lived with myself knowing that I hadn't done something more for him. I couldn't have failed him.

She was silent, weighing my words. Didn't she realize how much I loved Jamie? As much as I loved Mel. And I would not have failed Mel by losing him.

After a moment, she spoke again. "It was very easy. Probably any of you could get away with it, if you acted naturally."

It had been _that_ easy? So easy that we humans could have walked in, acting like souls, and we would've pulled it off? I didn't trust us that much. I trusted Wanda more than my fellow humans to do this. How ironic.

"She did look at my neck." Wanda reached up and stroked the line at the base of her skull. "Your scar is too obviously homemade, but with the medicines I took, Doc could fix that."

I hadn't thought about my own scar in a long time. It had healed so poorly that of course it didn't match the perfect little pink lines on real souls. I'd always been too terrified to mingle very much with the invaders, anyway. "I doubt any of _us_ could act so natural." I indicated her with my head.

"Yes, it's easy for me. I know what they expect—I'm one of them. If you trusted me, I could probably get you anything in the world you wanted." She laughed quietly at the thought of us trusting her.

"I do trust you," I breathed. "With all our lives, I trust you." And I'd done just that.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She had known she was trustworthy the entire time, and she was grateful that I had been willing to test her. And she had come through for Jamie. "You did it."

"We're going to save him," Wanda said, her voice filled with hope and joyous relief. I basked in the words. He wasn't going to die.

We didn't speak much after that. The fact that Jamie was going to live because of our efforts sustained us as Wanda drove out of town, down the highway—under the limit, of course—to the wash in the desert, where I stopped her and we switched seats.

The return trip literally flew away under our tires. I was anxious and eager to get back to the caves, to heal Jamie and also to share the news, the amazing thing I'd discovered.

We switched back to the Jeep at the rock slide. I didn't bother blindfolding Wanda as we pulled out, heading home. I let out an exuberant whoop of laughter, rendered ecstatic by our triumph. I wanted to shout, _Take that, parasites!_ like a small child. I really felt like I was on top of the world—with Wanda.

We sped through the desert; I didn't care so much now about caution. If our humans found us, I'd have nothing but good news for them. If some stray soul noticed us, heck, Wanda could probably make up some story about being lost or something. I had nothing to fear.

"Where's the blindfold?" Wanda asked me.

Her question threw me off. "Why?"

She gave me an incredulous look, as if saying, _Duh, why._

I refuted her quickly. "Wanda, if you wanted to turn us in, you had your chance. No one can deny that you're one of us now."

_One of us._ I loved that. Melanie, along with Wanda, had been a target of our distrust for so long. Being able to fully accept her was relieving—a cathartic exercise.

"I think some still could," she replied, and I knew she was thinking of Kyle. "It would make them feel better."

"Your _some_ need to get over themselves," I grumbled. If Kyle wouldn't see reason after _this,_ I was drowning him in the underground river.

Wanda shook her head. I noticed she was staring at her lap, still not watching where we were going, so her knowledge wouldn't be a liability. "It's not going to be easy, getting back in. Imagine what they're thinking right now. What they're waiting for."

Of course they were waiting for Seekers to come back—probably in my body. The first thing I'd have to do would be to verify my own humanity. After that, it would be an easy matter. Hopefully.

"Jared..." Wanda said slowly. "If they...if they don't listen, if they don't wait..." She looked up at me suddenly, fear in her eyes again. But not fear for herself—fear that we still wouldn't be able to save Jamie.

"Give Jamie the No Pain first. Lay that on his tongue. Then the Inside Clean spray—he just has to inhale it. You'll need Doc to—"

"Hey, hey!" I cut her off, overwhelmed by information. "You're going to be the one giving the directions."

"But let me tell you how—"

"No, Wanda." I was not letting anyone hurt this girl. She had somehow become so much more valuable. "It's not going to go down that way. I'll shoot anyone who touches you."

"Jared—" she began to protest.

"Don't panic," I said dryly. "I'll aim low, and then you can use that stuff to heal them back up again."

"If that's a joke, it's not funny."

"No joke, Wanda."

"Where's the blindfold?" she repeated.

My mouth tightened. I had left it at the hideout.

She reached down and pulled her old sleeveless shirt off the floor. "This will make it a little bit easier for them to let us in. And that means getting to Jamie faster." She rolled it into a strip and tied it around her head.

I bypassed the garage. There wasn't time to run for an hour before getting back to Jamie. "I'm taking us right to the caves," I told Wanda, so she wouldn't be preparing to run ten miles in ten minutes or something equally crazy. "There's a place the Jeep will be fairly well hidden for a day or two. It'll save us time."

She nodded without speaking.

"Almost there."

Something moved in the moonlit terrain ahead of us. I flicked the headlights on for one second and the guys' silhouettes were thrown into sharp relief. "They're waiting."

Without stopping, I reached into the backseat and pulled the gun out.

"Don't shoot anyone," Wanda warned me.

"No promises."

_"Stop!"_ That was Aaron's voice. He was running toward us now. A heavy flashlight that could conceivably double as a weapon was held ready in his hand.

I let off the gas, stopping just in front of him. "It's just us."

He switched his light on, aiming it at me. "Yes, yes," I said tiredly. "Look. See? I'm still me." I blinked, looking straight into the bright beam.

Aaron slowly lowered the light. The other guy—Andy, I guessed, from his stride—ran up beside him. Their postures were more unsure now. They hadn't expected me to return. Not human.

I took advantage of their hesitation. "Look, I'm bringing the Jeep in under cover, okay? We've got meds for Jamie, and we're in a hurry. I don't care what you're thinking; you're not getting in my way tonight."

They stepped haltingly out of the Jeep's path. As soon as they were clear, I hit the gas again, steering us toward a tiny cave just below the entrance.

"Okay, Wanda. Everything's fine. Let's go."

I leapt out, meeting Wanda at her door. Still blindfolded, she was feeling confusedly around for some point of reference.

I caught her hands in mine, steadying her. "Up you go." Checking that she had the backpack on, I hefted her onto my shoulder again. I clutched her more tightly this time, with only one hand—I was carrying the gun at the ready now.

We made it halfway down the steepest slope before we met anyone. Three figures. I couldn't tell in the darkness who was coming for us, but the voice made it obvious.

"Jared, you _idiot!_ What were you thinking?"

"Ease up, Kyle," Jeb drawled. He sounded relaxed, not angry, not even relieved. That meant he hadn't been too worried. He must've had more faith in Wanda than I'd thought.

"Is she hurt?" the last person asked anxiously. Of course it was Ian.

"Get out of my way," I told him confidently. Ian wouldn't let his brother do anything stupid. "I'm in a hurry. Wanda's in perfect shape, but she insisted on being blindfolded. How is Jamie?"

"Hot" was all Jeb said.

We were in time, then. I breathed a quick sigh of relief. "Wanda's got what we need."

They were jogging alongside me now, escorting me through the tunnel. Kyle was behind me, breathing down my neck. "I can carry her," Ian entreated.

"She's fine where she is," I shot back. I felt strangely superior to him at the moment. He'd been too worried, too scared for her, to take her outside. He was too much of a straight arrow to sneak her out like I had. He hadn't been able to do what was necessary. I had.

"I-I'm r-really oka-ay," Wanda said from my shoulder. My steps jostled her words, shaking and fragmenting them.

I leaned forward as the tunnel sloped upward, and I was able to keep pace with the others in spite of Wanda on my shoulder. When we reached the storage tunnel, I fixated my eyes on the ground so I wouldn't trip. The floor was very uneven.

Everyone was waiting in the main plaza, like the first time Wanda had come here, and when we entered, they all began muttering and hissing angrily, also like that first day.

"Out of my way," I shouted to them—some looked like they wanted to stop me and start a fight. "Is Doc with Jamie?"

My searching eyes found Wes in the crowd, and he gave me a small nod. I hurtled through the cavern toward our sleeping corridor, and several people, including Wes and Lily, followed us. Ian and Kyle were still right on my heels.

The green screen in front of our room was pushed aside. A faint blue glow emitted from the doorway. I entered and pulled up suddenly, letting the momentum push Wanda off my shoulder onto her feet in front of me. I yanked the shirt off her head, not pausing to untie the knots.

She and I took in the scene together. The blue glow was coming from the solar powered lanterns arranged around Jamie's sickbed. Doc stood at the head of the mattress, alarmed by our sudden entrance. Maggie was at Jamie's shoulder, slowly getting to her feet.

Jamie's face was bright red. His eyes were closed. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead.

Sharon knelt by his other shoulder, pressing a damp rag to his cheek. Her head snapped up to glare at me. In the dim, eerie blue light, her furious face hardly seemed human.

_"You!"_ she snarled, springing up, catapulting herself toward me, fingernails at the ready.

Unwilling to be clawed in the face, I dodged her attack, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her. She hissed like a cat and struggled to free herself, but even in her rage she was no match for me.

"Let her go!" Doc exclaimed, torn between the kid and his woman.

Jeb entered the room behind me, shouldering his way past us to stand in front of Maggie, who also looked as though she wanted to lunge at me.

I ignored Doc. Jamie needed help _now._ "Wanda, heal him!"

Doc scrambled around the mattress, blocking Wanda's path. She halted, affronted. "Doc." She sounded close to tears. "I need your help. Please. For Jamie."

He was looking past her, at me. At Sharon. I didn't care who she was to him; she wouldn't let us finish this if I were to let her go. I only hoped _he_ would.

"C'mon, Doc." Ian sidestepped me, placing one hand on Wanda's shoulder supportively. "You gonna let the kid die for your pride?"

"It's not pride," Doc said, eyeing Wanda apprehensively. "You don't know what those foreign substances will do to him!"

"He can't get much worse, can he?" Ian coaxed.

"Doc." Wanda's voice was clear now, more confident. "Look at my face."

Everyone in the room did. And they were as shocked as I had been. Maggie shot her daughter a troubled glance.

Doc was stupefied. "How?"

"I'll show you. Please. Jamie doesn't need to suffer."

Keeping his eyes on Wanda's miraculously unblemished face, Doc finally exhaled. "Ian's right—he can't get much worse. If this kills him..." He gave a helpless shrug and stepped out of Wanda's way.

He would see in a minute. He would see just how successful we'd been.

"No!" Sharon tried to twist away from me again, digging her nails into my fingers. Still restraining her hands, I placed one arm around her neck, not too forcefully, but none too gently either. She stopped resisting.

Wanda gave Jamie some type of medicine. It wasn't a pill—she simply laid it on his tongue and poured some water in his mouth so it would dissolve.

Next she sprayed some sort of aerosol can in the air above him, waiting for him to breathe it in. Then another small thing laid on his tongue.

And then she asked Doc for a sharp knife.

"You want me to open the wound?" Doc asked, trepidation clear in his voice.

"Yes, so I can clean it."

"I thought about trying that, to drain it, but the pain..."

"He'll feel nothing now."

I hoped that was true. I hoped the No Pain stuff I'd seen was effective.

The three of them, Wanda, Doc, and Ian, all leaned in to feel the kid's forehead, reacting with surprise and happiness. I heard Doc whisper, "Remarkable."

"The fever has cooled, but the infection may remain in his leg," Wanda advised, reaching into the backpack again. "Help me with his wound, Doc."

"Sharon, could you hand me—" Doc stopped himself when he realized Sharon wasn't going anywhere soon. "Oh. Uh, Kyle, do you mind handing me that bag right there by your foot?"

Kyle did, and Doc took a scalpel from the bag. Wanda had another spray can ready. It reminded me of bug spray.

"He won't feel it?" Doc inquired anxiously.

Then Jamie's eyes opened. They darted around for a second, taking in his surroundings. "Hey," he said. His voice was dry and raspy. "Hey, Wanda. What's going on? What's everybody doing here?"

He tried to get on his elbows, to greet everyone. The movement was not strained at all, requiring hardly any exertion. Not like the last days before he'd fallen unconscious, when propping himself up had been a chore.

Ian gently kept him lying down, asking him how he felt.

"I feel...really good. Why is everyone here? I don't remember."

"You've been sick," Ian explained. "Hold still so we can finish fixing you."

I wished I wasn't restraining Sharon, so I could go to him. I wanted to be at the kid's side, to rejoice in seeing his open eyes again.

"Can I have some water?" Jamie asked casually. The sleep had already left his voice, and he sounded perfectly fine. Not sick or weak. He gulped the bottle of water Ian offered effortlessly.

"It's the No Pain," Wanda said quietly, as if in response to my wonder. "It feels wonderful."

Jamie's eyes fell on me, my bizarre position, and I gave him an apologetic grin for not being over there.

"Why does Jared have Sharon in a headlock?" Jamie murmured.

"She's in a bad mood," Ian answered. He made no attempt to lower his voice. He grinned at me, and for the first time in a while, I actually felt like giving him a smile in return.

Under my arm, Sharon twitched irritably.

Jamie watched Doc's scalpel carefully. He looked uneasy.

"Tell me if you can feel this," Doc said, readying the scalpel.

"If it hurts," Wanda added for accuracy.

Jamie returned his gaze to the ceiling, not watching as Doc sliced his leg open. I winced at the dark, diseased blood that coursed out.

"That feels weird. But it doesn't hurt."

Doc made an X over the infected area, like he was preparing to suck venom out of a snakebite. Wanda sprayed her bug spray over the cuts. Even at my distance, I could see the dark red and yellow infection dissipate.

"Look at _that,_" Doc breathed.

"Okay, Heal," Wanda said to herself. She dug in her bag of miracles and pulled out another canister. She drizzled a clear liquid into the cuts, then asked Doc to hold the edges together. Jamie laughed, saying it tickled him.

Wanda squeezed some kind of paste onto the wound, and the cuts closed right up as though she'd just glued them together.

Jamie strained to look at his leg. "Can I see?" At Wanda's consent, he sat up, examining the pink X on his leg.

Wanda held up what looked like a handful of glitter. "See, I put this on, and it makes the scar very faint. Like this—" She held up her newly healed arm.

I saw Ian lean in to examine her scar, and his brow knitted in rumination.

"But don't scars impress girls?" Jamie chuckled. "Where did you get this stuff, Wanda? It's like magic."

"Jared took me on a raid."

Jamie showed no alarm, no sign that Wanda going outside should have been a no-no. He simply took it in stride. "Seriously? That's _awesome._"

Doc reached over and touched Wanda's still-glittering hand. I was confused momentarily, and I felt Sharon stiffen against me. I saw, belatedly, Doc sniff the glitter on his hand, and I understood he'd only been examining the magic medicine.

But Sharon shoved my arm from her shoulder, wrenched her hands from my grip, and turned to leave.

I let her go.

She shrugged her way past the people in the door, who had wordlessly watched the fruits of Wanda's mission be put to use. Some looked amazed, some still skeptical—although I didn't know how people could still doubt her after she'd left and come back without betraying us. But I even saw Brandt still _glaring_ toward Wanda. Like he couldn't believe her nerve.

Putting Sharon and those other narrow, hateful minds out of mine, I moved closer to Jamie's bed, right behind Wanda. I was enthralled by her, her capability, her easy success.

"You should have seen her," I said, speaking mostly to Jamie, but also ensuring that I told everyone how trustworthy I knew she was now. "She was incredible. She walked right into a hospital, right up to the alien there, and asked them to treat her injuries, bold as anything. Then, when they turned their backs, she robbed them blind! Walked right out of there with medicine, enough to last us all for a long time. She even waved at the bugger behind the counter as she drove away!"

Jamie was enjoying the story, listening with wide eyes; I added the dramatic details as I'd imagined. I just found it incredibly ironic how friendly she'd been to them. We stole from souls as their enemies, but if Wanda was caught "stealing," she probably wouldn't even get in trouble. As she had said, any soul treated another like a friend. Technically, they were all _family._

"It wasn't that exciting, really," Wanda said, slipping her hand into his. "It was very easy. I'm a bugger too, after all."

Oops. How had I let that slip? I didn't think of Wanda as a _bugger,_ a parasite, anymore. The slang had just come out naturally in my excitement, my triumph against the world we fought. "I didn't mean..."

Wanda didn't stop smiling. She cut me off with her hand, indicating that she wasn't offended.

Doc narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "How did you explain the scar on your face? Didn't they wonder why you hadn't—"

"I had to have fresh injuries, of course. I was careful to leave them nothing to be suspicious about. I told them I'd fallen with a knife in my hand." She shot Jamie a mischievous grin. "It could happen to anyone."

Everyone outside murmured questions now, in awe, in amazement. _Now_ they were beginning to realize what our safe return meant.

Then Ian spoke in a tight, angry voice. "Fresh injuries?"

"It was necessary," Wanda answered him defensively. "I had to hide my scar, and learn how to heal Jamie."

I took her hand, running my finger down the pink line. It was a smooth thing, hardly tangible to my fingertips. "It was horrible. She about hacked her hand off. I thought she'd never use it again."

"You cut yourself?" Jamie asked. He looked alarmed.

"Don't be anxious," Wanda soothed him, squeezing his hand. "It wasn't that bad. I knew it would be healed quickly."

But I hadn't. Yet I'd watched her, so incredibly brave about it, not even thinking about herself and what she would have to endure. Fearless and selfless—those qualities were good for a raider. "You should have seen her," I said again.

My hand was still on her arm, but I wasn't just stroking the scar now. My fingers traveled the entire length of her forearm, and she seemed to like the gesture. Having been so in tune with Wanda during our raid, I felt closer to _her_ now, not just Mel. She seemed...more accessible somehow, someone I could be familiar with, like I was with Melanie.

She had suddenly become a great asset to us. I was amazed by the miracle she'd just pulled off with Jamie and the outside world. _She_ was amazing. She was a miracle, just like Melanie had been—still was—to me.

"No more raids for you," Ian said softly. His hand was against her newly healed cheek.

What was he saying? Didn't he understand how valuable she was? "Of course she'll go out again. Ian, she was absolutely phenomenal—you'd have to see to really understand. I'm only just beginning to guess at the possibilities—"

He interrupted me, speaking even more loudly now. "_Possibilities?_ At what cost to her?" He wound his arm around her protectively. Possessively. "You _let_ her almost _hack_ her own _hand_ off?"

"No, Ian," Wanda said, soothing him now. I felt victorious, triumphant, that she was taking my side. "It wasn't like that. It was my idea. I had to."

"Of course it was your idea," he snapped. "You'd do anything. You have no _limits_ when it comes to those two. But _Jared_ shouldn't have let you—"

"What other way was there, Ian?" I retorted, matching his hostile tone. If he'd been the one to take Wanda, she would have failed, because he wouldn't have hit her—or let her injure herself. She wouldn't have been able to walk into that Healing clinic the way she needed to. "Did you have a better plan? D'you think she'd be happier if she'd was unhurt but Jamie was gone?" And now she _was_ unhurt, and Jamie was fine. No one had anything to be upset about.

I saw Wanda flinch at my words, though. When Ian looked down with tenderness and concern, I knew he too had noticed her reaction. He was silent for a minute.

"No." He was quieter now, his words more careful and measured. "But I don't understand how you could sit there and watch her _do_ that to herself."

He had no idea. How hard it had been. Watching her hand shake as she determinedly held my knife. Seeing the drops of blood spilling on the upholstery. Hearing her scream...

_I_ flinched this time. My shoulders curled inward. I had no answer for Ian.

"What kind of a man—" he started with an air of distaste.

Jeb spoke for the first time in a while. "A practical one."

The three of us turned to see him standing at the foot of the bed, holding a box. He must have left the room and retrieved it...whatever it was.

"It's why Jared's the best at getting what we need. Because he can do what has to be done. Or _watch_ what has to be done. Even when watching's harder than doing." His tone was brusque, no-nonsense.

I felt better at his words. They weren't..._praise_ exactly, but he wasn't condemning me like Ian was for the manner of our success. It had just been raid business, I had told myself. And no permanent harm had been done.

And now everyone knew—well, _I_ knew—that Wanda was a miracle.

"Now," Jeb said, his tone changing as though he'd flipped a switch. "I know it's closer to breakfast than supper, but I figured some of you haven't eaten in a while. Hungry, kid?" he said to Jamie.

"Uh..." Jamie hesitated, perplexed. "I'm not sure. I feel real hollow, but it doesn't feel...bad."

"That's the No Pain," Wanda said. "You should eat."

"And drink," Doc added. "You need liquids."

I was going to have to try some of that No Pain stuff. It sounded dangerous...and intriguing.

"Thought we might have a bit of a celebration," Jeb said, opening the box to reveal a rare treat of dehydrated meals, enough for everyone in the caves.

"Wow, yum!" Jamie exclaimed enthusiastically. "Spaghetti. Excellent!" He was acting as though he'd never been sick, as though nothing had happened to him. He was the happy Jamie again, the one that Mel and I knew and loved.

And Wanda. Of course Wanda loved him too.

As Jeb prepared the food for us—keeping the garlic chicken for himself—Wanda pulled Jamie into her lap, running her fingers through his still-sweaty hair. Ian kept his arm around her.

I situated myself on her other side. My hand wandered up her arm again, unobtrusively becoming familiar with the feel of Mel's skin.

Maybe it was my imagination, but her face seemed to fill with happiness at my touch. At our acceptance of her. She didn't speak, so as she looked around the room at everyone's face, her expression radiant, I could easily imagine she was Melanie, happy to be with her human family. But when she turned to meet my gaze quickly, her eyes flashed silver, reflected from the blue lanterns, and my fantasy was broken.

It was close enough, though. Wanda was family too.

Jamie had made the decision to accept her into our family long ago. Now it was my turn to admit that she was more than a tag-along to Mel. Like Ian had said, or more accused, she would do anything for _us._ We were her family, not the souls. I knew that now and accepted it.

I'd always miss Mel. But she _was_ a part of our lives. Mine. And now so was Wanda. A _good_ part. She made everyone so happy. Couldn't I, for once, go with the flow?

Everyone finished eating and went off to bed, exhausted. I was ready to sleep, too, but Jeb had sprawled out on the big bed. Kyle had his feet propped on my mattress, and I was too tired to kick him off.

I ended up slouching on the floor, lying on my back, while Wanda rested her head on my stomach. Jamie clung to her, while Ian rested _his_ head on _her_ stomach. Doc was next to them, Kyle on my other side.

No one spoke for a while. I could hear everyone breathing.

Jeb let out a loud belch, and Kyle laughed.

"Nicer night than I was plannin' for," Jeb grunted. "I like it when pessimism goes unrewarded. Thanks, Wanda."

Wanda let out a long, sleepy sigh in response. One of my hands had found its way to her head, and I was stroking her hair gently. For once, she wasn't responding to me with nervousness or timidity. Only contentment.

Kyle spoke up, hindered by a huge yawn. "Next time she...next time she raids, I'm coming too."

I marveled at his words. He'd finally said _she._ He was coming around.

Ian's body stiffened. "She's _not_ going out again," he insisted.

"Of course not," Wanda whispered. Her hand was on Ian's face, trying to keep him calm, I supposed. "I don't have to go anywhere unless I'm needed. I don't mind staying in here."

We _did_ need her, though. The raid we'd gone on tonight had been so easy. What if all our raids could become that easy?

"I'm not talking about keeping you prisoner, Wanda," Ian was saying. "You can go anywhere you want as far as I'm concerned—jogging on the highway, if you'd like that. But not a raid. I'm talking about keeping you safe."

"We need her," I said tightly. I was prepared to fight him on this if I had to.

"We got by fine without her," he countered.

_"Fine?"_ I echoed. "Jamie would've _died_ without her. She can get things for us that no one else can." I tried to move to get up, to take this discussion to a loftier height, but Wanda was pinning me down with her head.

"She's a person, Jared," Ian snapped. "Not a tool."

"I know that," I muttered, fully aware that I'd used that exact word for her in my mind. I hadn't _voiced_ that particular sentiment, though. "I didn't _say_ that—"

Jeb intervened once again. "S'up to Wanda, I'd say."

"You can't leave it up to her, Jeb," Ian contended.

"Why not? Seems like she's got her own mind. Is it your job to make decisions for her?"

_Ha,_ I thought, hearing Jeb nail him. Ian was becoming so protective of Wanda that it bordered on controlling.

"I'll you why not," Ian said, his tone surly. "Wanda?"

"Yes, Ian?" she said innocently.

"Do you _want_ to go out on raids?"

"If I can help, of course I should go."

Ian sounded overly patient, almost condescending. "That's not what I asked, Wanda."

In her confused silence, I pondered her answer.

She had said, _Of course I should go._ _Should,_ not _want to._ She wasn't really thinking of herself. The greater good was synonymous with her will.

"See, Jeb?" Ian groaned. "She never takes into account her own wants. Her own happiness, her own _health,_ even. She'd do anything we asked her to, even if it got her killed. It's not fair to ask her things the way we'd ask each other. We stop to think about ourselves. _She_ doesn't."

No one could think up an answer for that. He knew her nature perfectly. But _I_ knew that she really did want to help. If something was embedded in her personality, it was a need to help—_altruism._ I couldn't say that, though. Ian would then claim that I was using her nature to get what I wanted. And he would be right.

Wanda saved me by speaking up herself. "That's not true. I think about myself all the time. And I...I want to help. Doesn't that count? It made me so happy to help Jamie tonight. Can't I find happiness the way _I_ want to?"

"See what I mean?" Ian said.

"Well, I can't tell her she can't go if she wants to," Jeb said. "She's not a prisoner anymore." If it wasn't so dark in the room, I figured he would be winking at me.

"You don't need to ask," Wanda whispered. "I volunteer. It really wasn't...frightening. Not at all. The other souls are very kind. I'm not afraid of them. It was almost too easy."

_That's my girl!_ I wanted to exclaim. She had said the exact right thing—she'd expounded on her absolute safety while raiding, something that we humans would never be assured. Wanda was in no danger of being caught. She wasn't human, so there was really nothing she could be caught _doing._

"Easy?" Ian was starting to get agitated again. "Cutting yourse—"

"That was an emergency," Wanda said hastily. "I won't have to do that again. Right?" I could tell his disapproval of her actions made her nervous, like he was making her doubt their rightness.

I wouldn't make her think that. I knew she'd done the right thing. Jamie was well because of her; now he was slumbering peacefully on Wanda's chest, his arms around her neck. How could saving that boy be a bad thing? The ends justified the means.

I could trust her now. We could let her do whatever she wanted outside, and she didn't want to turn us in. She wanted to help us.

My hand, I noticed, was absentmindedly tracing her cheek. Like I'd done sometimes with Mel. How long had I been doing that?

Ian made a sound of exasperation. "If she goes, I'm going, too. Someone has to protect her from herself."

"And I'll be there to protect the rest of us from _her,_" Kyle said.

Though I could tell he was joking, his words provoked me. I moved my foot to kick him.

_"Ow."_

If Ian and Kyle were going out together, the raid would be a disaster. Wanda's expertise wouldn't stop the brothers' feuding. Something would happen. Probably only one person among us could stop them.

"And I'll be there to bring you all back alive," I mumbled before we dropped off to sleep.

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><p><strong>It's getting good...I think. Hope you enjoyed it!<strong>

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	16. The Easiest Way Ever

**Hello again, welcome back! It's been awhile...:-(**

**I've had this chapter written for a while now, but I wasn't very happy with it and kept putting posting it off. Finally I just resigned myself to the fact that this chapter is just...menial. The subject matter is a bit dull in comparison to other chapters' content, but still vital to the story as a whole.**

**Hope I didn't let you guyses down with this one...Chapter Sixteen.**

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><p>As it turned out, we didn't have to go on another raid for several more weeks. But when the time came, the four of us—Wanda, Ian, Kyle, and I—went as planned.<p>

Before we left, Doc made little cuts on the backs of our necks and sealed them with soul medicine. He'd become a pro at it by that time.

I finally got to try the No Pain medicine, and it really did feel great. I felt nothing but Doc's gentle hands as he sliced my neck open and glued it shut.

When Doc finished with Kyle and Ian, Kyle punched his brother without warning.

"Hey!"

"Did you feel it?" Kyle asked, his face alight with amusement.

Ian grunted in annoyance. "It didn't hurt, but the bruise will, once this stuff wears off." He inspected his arm, indicating the new purple splotch forming. I laughed.

At sunset, we started out of the caves. The first order of business was, of course, to show Wanda where the exit was. She had proved herself trustworthy for that.

But we couldn't just_ tell_ her outright. My playful side, the one Mel loved so much, was desperate for some fun. I couldn't help grinning as we led her down the dark storage corridor without telling her why.

"What are we doing down here? Do we need something?"

"We need to leave," I said with a chuckle. As she began turning the corner toward the hole, I grabbed her arm and pulled her back in the other direction. "This way."

It took her a second. She didn't say anything. I had to turn on a flashlight to see her expression.

The realization was slowly dawning on her. Her eyes were widening, and her mouth fell open. "This is—?"

"Yep."

She seemed speechless. "Wh—then why did you...put me down here?" She couldn't believe we'd dared to keep her so close to the way out.

"It was Jeb's idea," I told her, still grinning. I hadn't believed we could do that, either.

Wanda shook her head, beginning to smile now. "Jeb. Tricky."

"And there's another exit," Ian added. "A crawlspace, in a corner of Doc's hospital." He too was enjoying her surprise.

"I never noticed," she murmured, her voice weak with shock.

We slipped through the desert, not running ourselves to the ground this time, but setting a respectable pace. Kyle, the biggest, had the least stamina, so Ian and I ended up racing each other through the desert while Wanda lagged a little behind us, glancing back at Kyle periodically.

She didn't seem to be tiring, yet she was not keeping up with me as she had on our first time out. As I looked repeatedly over my shoulder with a question in my eyes, Ian muttered to me that she was probably dropping back from us to make Kyle feel better.

Of course he would feel humiliated at being beaten in a race by a _girl._ An _alien_ girl, at that. And of course Wanda wouldn't want him to feel that way, so she would deliberately slack her pace for him. Of course. The more time I spent with Wanda, the more I was coming to admire those selfless, compassionate traits of hers.

Upon reaching the cave, I took the wheel of the big white van, with Wanda in the passenger seat. Kyle and Ian jumped in the moving van. This would be a long, extensive raid, and we'd need the room in both the big vehicles.

Of course, this raid would be very different than others.

Driving out onto the highway, our two vehicles stayed together, making a course heading due east. We crossed the state line and spent the night parked in thick trees. The next morning, Kyle and Ian left the moving van in the woods, switching into the back of our van. After driving for a few more hours, I pulled up in the parking lot of a store.

I handed Wanda a list of nonperishable food items. "Got it?"

She nodded. I now recognized that determined expression she wore when she was about to do something important.

"Be careful," Ian pleaded. He looked more anxious than she did, like he was going to jump out after her.

"I'm fine," Wanda said, her tone cheerful. She opened the passenger door of the van and hopped out. "See you soon."

We sat in silence, waiting. Ian's posture was tense, as though he were on pins and needles. Kyle's expression was vaguely angry, his version of worry.

I wasn't worried. I knew that this venture was infinitely easier than the one to the Healing facility. My new confidence in Wanda gave me a tranquility and assurance that I'd never experienced on a raid before. Wanda had this.

I couldn't _relax,_ though. Wanda had a mission to accomplish, and I couldn't help her. I felt a dull sense of restlessness and frustration. Out on raids, I was accustomed to being able to give orders at any moment. Not this time.

But Wanda didn't disappoint me. Within twenty minutes, she was back, pushing a cart of canned and boxed food for us, obtained legitimately and free of charge—or danger. Her face was proud as she opened the sliding van door and began to unload her spoils.

I felt bad that we couldn't help her. After all, she had gone in there alone, and so she had to keep up the charade of being alone by loading her vehicle by herself. We couldn't suddenly materialize just to put things back in the van.

Ian had similar regrets. "I feel...ungentlemanly. We're making you do all the work while we just sit here."

"I don't mind," Wanda said, still cheerful and congenial. "I'm just glad to be able to help at all."

"Did anybody notice you?" I questioned. "Did you have to talk to anyone?"

"No. It felt just like shopping back...back when I lived in San Diego."

"You lived in San Diego?" I echoed her, confused again. Mel had gotten caught in Chicago. Why had Wanda lived in California?

"Yes, I taught at the university there."

"What'd you teach?" I asked her, my curiosity growing.

"About other planets!" Ian interjected. "Catch up, Jared. We already knew this stuff."

Right. She'd told them everything about herself already, while I'd been busy hating her. Urgh. I did have some catching up to do.

I started the van and pulled out of the parking lot. "Kyle, Ian, sort out that food back there. We're hitting another couple stores before we go back to the moving van."

"That was the first time we've robbed a store in broad daylight," Kyle observed. "Feels really weird."

"To you and me both," I muttered. The weirdest part, the truth of it, was that it wasn't even technically _robbing._ It was just, for Wanda, a trip to the grocery store.

We settled into this new raid routine after a few days. Hitting a few towns per day, big and small, Wanda brought us more spoils in five days than we normally brought in after two weeks of raiding.

We didn't have to stay off main roads, or drive mainly at night. There was no scoping out of houses, no debates as to whether the targeted location was safe. We merely let Wanda fill the van with groceries, backtracked, transferred it all to the moving van, and started the process over. We moved slowly eastward, crossing state lines and passing through cities, towns, and tiny roadside communities.

The only things we actively avoided were Seekers. They were easily distinguishable by their marked, powerfully built cars. Those vehicles—and the people who drove them—spelled danger for us.

Wanda, our secret weapon, could easily hide the fact that she was with humans from ordinary souls. They would never suspect her of lying to them, having any reason to trick them. Seekers were different. They had been trained to pick out humans, see through deceptions. Could Wanda, the pure, honest soul that she was, fool a highly suspicious Seeker?

I didn't want to take that chance.

So we stayed inconspicuous. Wanda tried her hardest to blend in, to not be noticed. However, when she shopped in the smaller towns, her unfamiliar face would be singled out.

The first instance of this happened in a tiny New Mexican town, comprised mostly of indigenous-looking people. Wanda came back from the small store more quickly than usual, her cart only half full, her face white. The three of us, sitting hidden in the van's rear area, jumped to our feet in alarm. Had something happened? Were we compromised?

"Someone spoke to me," she whispered. "He asked me if I was new in town."

"That's not so bad, is it?" Ian said bolsteringly, reaching out inconspicuously to take the provisions she was moving off her cart. "You just had to say _yes._ Or, _just passing through._"

"I did. Then he asked why I'd come here. I was so nervous I just said I traveled a lot. For my Calling. I was afraid I'd acted strangely, so I came right out." Her face was still pale, still reeling from the unexpected challenge.

"I'm sure you were fine," Ian encouraged her, while I thought out her dilemma.

Wanda wasn't scared of mingling with other souls. They were her kind. But when she was put on the spot, she had a hard time thinking quickly. I proposed she come up with a cover story, one she could practice and then dole out to any overfriendly alien who wanted to chat.

That was the eighth day of the raid. By this time on raids we guys would have begun smelling each other—of course there was never any place to stop and bathe. We normally ignored it as best we could, for it didn't slow us down and only made for some ribbing between us. But Wanda couldn't stink. She had to be clean and comfortable.

I mulled over this problem as Wanda ventured into a store in Albuquerque. I'd suggested she get a new set of clothes to wear, so she wouldn't look as though she lived rough, but new clothes wouldn't mask the fact that she hadn't cleaned up for days.

I knew the others would hate my solution, so I was loath to bring it up. Finally, though, when Wanda had loaded the van and was sitting up front with me, I steeled myself and said, "I think you need a shower."

She took it very well, though I wasn't sure she fully understood what that would mean. "Where would I get one of those?"

"I think...I think we'll have to stop at a hotel." I saw the two men stiffen at my words, but I pressed on. "We'd have to stay the night, so we don't look odd."

"No," Kyle said instantly.

"It's too dangerous," Ian protested. "I'd rather charge an armed Seeker than sleep in a hotel."

I would, too. But I couldn't let something mundane like cleanliness stand in the way of our mission. "We won't have to pay. We don't have to talk to anyone. And we can lock the doors once we're inside."

"It'll take more than a locked door to keep the Seekers from getting us," Kyle objected, adopting a stubborn, mulish tone. "I'm not doing it."

"We have to," Wanda said softly. "I'll do all the talking."She was looking at me with a countenance of sympathy. She knew how much this would unnerve us, sleeping in a room provided to us by our enemies, but she also understood that it _was_ necessary. And she would do what was necessary.

I nodded squarely. "Good."

She reached hesitantly into a paper bag she held on her lap. "I brought some sandwiches from the deli. For all of us."

"Whoa!" Kyle exclaimed, distracted, diving toward the front. "Awe_some!_" He snatched the sandwich Wanda offered. "That's actual _meat_ in there!"

"You're such a kid, Kyle," Ian admonished. "What do you say?" he added mockingly.

"Thanks," Kyle said, half-grudgingly. "Next time, can you get some candy? Caramel's my favorite."

He _was_ a child.

When we stopped on the outskirts of the town at a small roadside motel, though, Kyle refused to go in. "No _way_ am I sleeping here. Somebody's gonna see the van. They'll know something's up."

"People see the van every day," Ian urged him exasperatedly. "It doesn't look _dangerous._"

"I'm not going in," Kyle said, the stubborn note creeping back into his voice. "I'll stay up in the van and keep watch for Seekers."

"Stay up, my eye," Ian grumbled as Wanda, taking a deep breath, slid out to check us into a room. "You'll be asleep before us."

It was dark outside, but I still fought the insistent urge to run once I stepped out of the van. There were aliens _everywhere_ here. They surrounded me, pressed in on me, though they didn't even know I was here.

Once inside, I barricaded the door, turning the deadbolt and even stringing the chain lock. With that done, I felt a little more secure. The hotel room looked just the same as I remembered from the human years. It was small; the two full-sized beds barely fit on one wall opposite a clunky TV perched on the dresser.

A bed! I hadn't slept on a real bed since my family had left our house. Ever since then, I'd slept on mattresses, in cars, or on the cold, hard ground. I was actually looking forward to this part of the stay.

Until Ian approached me while Wanda showered, wearing a serious expression. "We have to let Wanda sleep by herself."

What? "Why?" I said, utterly confused. If Wanda slept by herself in one bed, the two of us would have to share the other. That didn't bode well at all. It would make much more sense if Wanda, smaller than both Ian and me, shared with one of us. Ian and I would not fit comfortably on one full-sized mattress. In fact, I was pretty sure that one of us would end up on the floor.

But whom would Wanda share with? Me or Ian?

"It's not fair to ask her to choose," Ian said quietly. He glanced toward the bathroom door, but I could hear the vapor fan running noisily. It was a safe bet that Wanda couldn't hear us.

"Why not? It's fairer to _tell_ her where she's going to sleep?" He was at it again, trying to make Wanda's decisions for her. Trying to control her. "Don't you think it's more polite—"

"For someone else," Ian replied in his annoying _It's obvious_ tone. "But Wanda will agonize over this. She'll be trying so hard to please us both, she'll make herself miserable."

"Jealous again?" I ribbed him.

"Not this time. I just know how she thinks."

I didn't buy that completely. This sounded like an elaborate ruse to me. He'd probably just been afraid that if we let her choose, Wanda wouldn't choose to share a bed with him.

In the very back of my mind, I supposed I had envisioned Wanda sharing the hotel bed with _me._ But I hadn't pondered the logistics of this scene in detail. I didn't _expect_ it of her. Knowing Wanda, she _would_ probably want to sleep beside me. She would also worry about me, though, like how she was always tentative to bring Mel up in conversations. She tried so hard not to remind me that she'd stolen Melanie's body. And I _was_ getting used to it by now.

But sleeping beside her? _Right_ beside her? That was pushing it.

As usual when it came to Wanda, Ian's instincts were right. There was no way around it—I'd have to sleep next to _him_ tonight. As if the hotel stay could get any more fun.

"Fine. But if you try cuddling up to me tonight..." I couldn't think of a good enough threat. "...So help me, O'Shea."

Ian gave a light chuckle, as though amused by my dead serious warning. "Not to sound overly arrogant, but to be perfectly honest, Jared, were I so inclined, I think I could do better." He strode over to the window and adjusted the thick curtains.

I'd throw him out to the aliens, that's what I'd do.

The night in the hotel was not enjoyable, but nor was it torturous. I slept uneasily, Ian tossing and turning beside me. I figured my restlessness came from the stress of actually sleeping in a hotel room coupled with the stress of having Ian as a roommate. Once he fell deeply asleep, he was all over the bed. Several times I awoke to find my fists clenched, and I was sure I'd punched him in my sleep as he'd tried to roll on top of me.

However, Wanda seemed fairly happy the next morning, and she didn't ask any questions about the sleeping arrangements. I was glad to leave the sleepy inn at dawn, but I had a sinking feeling that we'd have to do this again in the coming days.

I was right. Over the next six weeks, we fell into a routine. Wanda shopped at stores during the day, we organized her spoils by night, and every seven days or so Wanda would get clean, unwrinkled clothes from a store, and we'd stop at a hotel. I got used to it, marginally.

Wanda was excellent at raiding. I trusted her to get the job done more than I'd ever trusted even my best guys on missions. She was quick and efficient, not to mention sweet and thoughtful. She brought Kyle and Ian their favorite treats from stores, always had delicious, perishable food for us to enjoy while on the road. She'd asked me what I particularly wanted to eat, but I didn't have a favorite food anymore, and I told her so. She nodded as if she'd expected my answer.

Our alien ally _was_ a powerful tool, but I didn't just think of her in that way. I knew that she did what she did for us out of love, and I tried to appreciate that. She was focused and steadfastly dedicated to helping us. And she made raiding easier and less dangerous than it had ever been.

Kyle even commented once, as we drove away from yet another store, "This is too easy. It's not really even _fun_ anymore."

_I_ was having the time of my life. We were robbing aliens blind, using their own trusting nature against them for our own gain, yet we weren't hurting anyone. If there was a pinnacle of our hard, hunted existence, this was it—the easiest way ever to survive.

Finally, in Oklahoma, we turned around, preparing to go back. Taking a different route than before, Wanda made a few more shopping forays.

Ian noticed that she was looking tired, so we made what would hopefully be our last pit stop before heading home.

This hotel was no different. We weren't the only customers, but no one else was out in the heat of the late afternoon. No one saw Wanda, Ian, and me enter our room.

The evening passed lazily. We ate our dinner, exchanging jokes about Kyle's discomfort, sitting up all night in the van. Ian switched on the television and snorted at the program playing. "You have to admit, Wanda, we humans had better entertainment."

Looking at the screen more closely, I could see he was right. The actors seemed stiff, their lines sounding artificial and overly formal. Not even normal souls talked that way. These actors reminded me of Wanda when she was trying to lie—every word was rehearsed and delivered too perfectly.

"You have to consider the intended audience," Wanda said. As usual, she was playing the diplomat, sounding neither accusatory nor defensive.

"True," Ian conceded. "I wish they'd run old human shows again. Used to be a few of them on." He changed channels rapidly, frowning when he found very little diversity.

What did he expect? Our television was based on either fantasy or very twisted realities. Souls _were_ fantastical creatures; they didn't need to make up stories about aliens or demons invading the earth. And of course there was no soul with any health or lifestyle problem. No hyped-up reality shows could come from these perfect creatures. So naturally, television was...blander. Not like our gritty, heightened-reality programs.

"They were too disturbing," Wanda explained, looking out the window at the setting sun. "They had to be replaced with things that weren't so...violent."

_"The Brady Bunch?"_ Ian asked incredulously, disbelieving that the idealistic family show could ever be labeled as _disturbing_. For idealistic souls, the show's cheesy atmosphere had probably hit too close to home.

"It condoned aggression," Wanda said, gentle laughter in her voice. "I remember one where a little male child punched a bully, and that was portrayed as being the right thing to do." She shuddered slightly. "There was blood."

_I'm sure the gore was absolutely horrifying, _I wanted to retort. She'd never seen some of the gratuitously violent shows or movies we humans had had for enjoyment. But I kept quiet, listening to the television again. The two actor souls were discussing a water planet, home to the many-eyed See Weeds. While the acting was under par, at least the content was interesting—until they began discussing their feelings for each other. That made Ian laugh.

Wanda stayed at the window, peeking through the curtain. A tender smile was growing at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze was riveted on whatever she was looking at outside—the scene on the other side of the window was making her smile.

I crossed the room. "What are you staring at, Wanda?"

"Something I've never seen in all my lives," she answered without looking away. "I'm staring at...hope."

I joined her at the crack in the curtains, looking outside. There was the van, the only visible car in the parking lot. Across the empty street, a small playground set. Some buildings that might have been apartments. I couldn't see anything _hopeful._ "What do you mean?"

She took hold of my chin deftly, directing my gaze to the playground. "Look." A soul family was playing on the swing set, a man, a woman, and a child, barely out of infancy.

"What am I looking at?" I demanded, confused by her observation.

"The only hope for survival I've ever seen for a host species."

"Where?"

Wanda patiently pointed to the woman, pushing the baby on the swing. "See? See how she loves her human child?"

The young mother pulled the baby out of the swing, holding him to her chest. She kissed his face repeatedly, making the child giggle happily. No hint of soul maturity showed in that face, those eyes.

He was a...baby. There was no soul in him.

"The baby is _human?_" I exclaimed, getting it all of the sudden. "How? Why? For how long?"

Wanda shrugged helplessly. "I've never seen this before. I don't know. She has not given him up for a host. I can't imagine that she would be..._forced._ Motherhood is all but worshipped among my kind. If she is unwilling...I have no idea how that will be handled. This doesn't happen elsewhere—the emotions of these bodies are so much stronger than logic."

She turned and looked at me then, wearing a rueful expression, I thought, but I couldn't be sure because I couldn't stop looking at the three people across the street.

These two souls had had a baby—a human baby. Of course he'd been human when he was born. But they hadn't had a third soul inserted in him. They'd wanted _him_—their sweet human baby.

"No," Wanda said bemusedly. "No one would force the parents if they wanted the child. And just _look_ at them."

I could see what she meant. The parents truly loved that boy. They'd raise him in their society, teaching him to be kind and helpful and selfless—just like every other soul. But he would be theirs—really the son they'd created, not some stranger in his body.

What would they teach him about humans?

"Aside from ourselves, this is the first planet we've discovered with live births," Wanda murmured, hardly speaking to us anymore. "Yours certainly isn't the easiest or most prolific system. I wonder if that's the difference, or if it's the helplessness of your young. Everywhere else, reproduction is through some form of eggs or seeds. Many parents never even meet their young. I wonder...hmm. Perhaps, someday, some of my kind and some of yours will live in peace. Wouldn't that be...strange?"

No. It had already happened. Wanda was already living with us, in peace. It wasn't so strange. How different was she from us, really? Not at all, except kinder and more thoughtful.

Never again would I hate a soul. They weren't monsters. They just didn't understand about us, about humans.

Well, most didn't. Wanda got it. Those souls across the street got it.

Could it be possible that one day, every soul would get it? Could we, sometime in the distant future, come out of our hiding place and make a life among our invaders?

Ian, at my shoulder, was just as enthralled as I was, watching the family gather together and head for the apartment building.

What had I told Mel once? _This isn't a world I'd want to bring a child into._ But in light of all we'd been through since then, what we'd discovered about our visitors, couldn't that sentiment have changed?

It didn't matter. I couldn't have Mel. No matter how I felt about Wanda, and no matter how much I wanted to be with Melanie, the two were a package deal. Separated from me.

Still, it was food for thought.

We filled up the van one last time, leaving it mostly full due to the shrinking space left available in the moving van. With all we could possibly hold, we began the trek back home.

The drive seemed to take less time than normal, even making allowances for the big, heavy moving van that couldn't drive over fifty miles an hour on a road that wasn't perfectly straight. Wanda and I spent days alone in the van, seldom speaking to each other. Wanda seemed to be longing for our refuge, for home, for Jamie. We took turns driving in about six-hour rotations, alternately sleeping in the passenger seat.

In almost no time, we were speeding through the desert, into Arizona, past Tucson, toward our hiding place in the middle of nowhere.

The raid had been a great success. Wanda had been all I'd known she'd be and more. We'd probably never go outside without her again.

I began picturing the scene of our homecoming. No doubt Jamie would be the first to greet us, shouting excitedly when he realized we were all back—all of us, and with no hostage souls.

Everything would be great. I was sure.

Until I heard the siren.

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><p><strong>Boom. Now the intensity starts back up again. Yay!<strong>

**Well, it's Labor Day (almost not, now...is it midnight yet?) and if you were off today like I was, cheers. If not...I acknowledge your pain. :-)**

**Thank you _so_ much for reading. Please leave a review below letting me know how you liked or didn't like the chapter/story. I will try to have the next installment up sooner!**

**-KylerM**


	17. Faith Replenished

**Hi! Hello! Welcome back! Or welcome for the first time :-)**

**Either way, thanks for clicking, now enjoy Chapter Seventeen.**

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><p><em>No!<em>

This couldn't be happening. This kind of thing _didn't_ happen anymore. Unless...

A quick glance at the dashboard confirmed it—I'd been speeding. Big time.

_Stupid!_ I berated myself. I couldn't believe it.

We'd been trying to avoid Seekers our entire trip. And now, on the home stretch, we were getting pulled over. And it was my fault.

Wanda had said that every soul obeyed traffic laws. The Seeker behind us had to have seen that I hadn't been under the limit, and had probably assumed the worst—_humans._

_Stupid, careless idiot!_ I wanted to shout. I lifted my eyes to the windshield, looking beyond the road, beyond the horizon, for something I could do, anything that could help.

But nothing we could do would help.

We couldn't run; their suspicions would be confirmed. They would come after us in droves, hunt us down, corner us. There was nowhere in the desert to hide, and we couldn't lead them to our home, where they waited, expecting our safe return...

We were finished.

I'd killed us. Myself, Wanda, possibly Kyle and Ian too. Possibly everyone.

There was no alternative. We would have to die here, make the sacrifice to keep the others in Jeb's home safe.

Jamie...

He would lose me, Wanda, and Mel, all at once. Could he ever recover from that?

Melanie. Wanda. I would be the death of them. My carelessness would cost my life, and the life of the woman I loved. And the goodhearted alien who'd reunited us. All of our struggles meant nothing now. We were all gone.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda," I choked. "I blew it."

She was staring at me in the dark, her eyes wide, horrified. "Jared?" Her voice was plaintive.

My foot had been locked in place, holding the pedal down at eighty miles an hour. But I let off, slowing the van. I groped for Wanda's—Mel's—hand. I wanted the comfort of her touch as we slipped away together. "Got your pill?" I hated how close I was to crying.

"Yes." I heard her fumble in her pocket to bring out her death.

I pulled my own out, going by touch. I couldn't see the tiny thing in the dusky light.

"Can Mel...hear me?"

"Yes," Wanda breathed, her voice trembling as well.

I wanted to talk to Mel directly, but there wasn't time. "I love you, Mel. Sorry." Sorry I'd lost her. Sorry I'd wronged her so much. Sorry that now, now that we could have been happy, I had ruined everything.

"She loves you. More than anything." Wanda sounded...dejected somehow, as though she longed to say something else but wouldn't. Wouldn't let herself.

I had a pretty good guess of what it was. "Wanda, I..." What could I say to her? To comfort her? She longed to tell me plainly that _she_ loved me too. I couldn't exactly say the same to her, but I spoke as sincerely as I could. "I care about you, too. You're a good person, Wanda. You deserve better than what I've given you. Better than this."

Better than death. Better than life as a fugitive, ended by negligence on my part. Better than what we were about to do.

But it was necessary. Necessary for both of us.

"Wait," she begged, panic suddenly in her voice, desperate to stop me. Although she'd barely reacted when we'd realized we were compromised, now she seemed on the borderline of hysteria. Why didn't she want me to do what was necessary?

Hardly a minute had passed since we heard the siren. Even though I'd let off the gas, we were still moving. The car, its siren still wailing, hadn't caught up to us yet. But it wouldn't be long. We couldn't wait.

"Wanda, we can't take the chance." I didn't know what she wanted to do, but I had already thought of everything. Nothing would work. "We can't outrun them, not in this. If we try to run, a thousand of them will swarm after us. Think of Jamie."

"Give me one try. Let me try to lie us out of this."

_Her._ She wanted to _talk_ to that Seeker. Like I knew she wasn't capable of.

She held up her pill, or so I assumed in the darkness. "I'll swallow it right away if anything goes wrong."

"You'll never lie your way past a Seeker!" I told her in a furious whisper. She knew she couldn't. She was just desperate.

"Let me try, quick!" Her voice was supplicating, pleading again. I heard the _click_ of her seatbelt unbuckling. "Switch with me. Fast, before they're close enough to see." Another _click,_ and my own seatbelt loosened.

"Wanda—"

She cut me off. "One try. Hurry!"

Well, we had nothing to lose. We were dead anyway.

I slid lithely over her huddled body, settling myself in the passenger seat while she climbed behind the wheel.

Wanda's voice took on a different quality, one I'd not heard from her. "Seatbelt. Close your eyes. Turn your head away." She switched off our engine, leaving the headlights on.

She sounded like Mel, giving me orders. I obeyed her, leaning my head on my shoulder as though I was asleep. Maybe, if the Seeker who came had a light, he would see the scar Doc had given me. That would help.

I fastened my seatbelt, like a good soul would. Then came the scary part: I closed my eyes.

My world became completely black. Blank.

The blindness racked me with panic, unable to see the danger coming for me. I strained my ears for any sound but the screaming siren.

It was getting closer now. I could hear the engine approaching.

What would Wanda say? How could she explain speeding? It just wasn't something souls did. What story could our honest soul friend come up with? Nothing believable, I was sure.

The siren shut off abruptly, and I could hear the engine idling...beside us? Behind us? Where were our enemies?

A car door opened and closed. I sensed a bright light coming from Wanda's side of the van—a flashlight, shining in the driver's side window?

Footsteps. One pair. Hard. Purposeful.

They were coming for me.

I fought to keep myself relaxed, to maintain the posture of a sleeping person. But I wanted to stiffen, to curl up in a ball to hide myself from the death that whoever was coming would bring.

I couldn't, though.

The Seeker spoke. "Having a problem, miss? You were going much too fast for safety."

My death, my reckoning, was less than a yard away from me. I was blind and defenseless, relying on an atrocious liar to save my skin for me. My feet twitched, desperate to run, to flee for shelter and safety.

But what had I been kidding myself? There was no safe place for us.

"I'm so sorry," I heard Wanda whisper. I imagined her pretending I was sleeping, keeping her voice hushed as part of the charade. "I think...well, I think I might have...fallen asleep?"

Her lying was painfully obvious. The feigned, careful hesitation, the over-concentration placed on every word, the recitation-like tone, all of it screamed _false_ to me, the human, even with no sight.

Were all her interactions this way? Did she sound this stiff every time she spoke to a soul? Did she know how unnatural she sounded?

She continued droning out these transparent lies. "I didn't realize I was so tired. It was irresponsible for me to drive so long without sleep. I thought we could make it to Phoenix before I would need rest. I'm very sorry."

"What's your name, miss?" the man said. He too spoke in a quieter voice. His tone sounded much more natural, but there was...something else there. Something on the edge of his tone that made me uneasy. Distraction? Worry? There was something else going on in his head than this conversation. Was he wondering why she sounded so odd and strained?

"Leaves...Above?" Wanda answered him. The name sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps she'd used it in our travels—Wanda was always making up names for us in stores and hotels. It seemed all she had to do was choose two or three random words to put together.

"Upside-down Flower?"

"Yes, I was."

"My partner, too. Were you on the island?"

He was swallowing her lies. Believing she was like any other soul. Even making small talk with her about past planets.

Were they really that dumb?

"No," Wanda replied. "The mainland, between the great rivers."

The small part of my brain that wasn't terrified of this situation was growing curious again. Upside-down flowers? How did that work—was there some reverse gravity, some part of the planet's poles that hung plants and earth from the sky?

I forced myself to listen again. The Seeker could just be playing along with Wanda, ready to ask her where she was going, how long had she traveled without stopping, and who was that man beside her faking sleep?

"Should I go back to Tucson?" Wanda was saying innocently. "I think I'm quite awake now. Or maybe I should take a nap right here first—"

_"No!"_ His voice was suddenly forceful and loud, his distraction leaving completely. There was a short pause, and I imagined the shock and fear showing on Wanda's face, rendering her temporarily speechless. She would be easily terrified right now.

"Didn't mean to startle you. But you shouldn't linger." The preoccupation was back.

"Why?" Wanda was barely audible.

"There was a...disappearance recently."

My mind immediately went on full alert. A disappearance. Someone had been in this area and hadn't come back. Some soul.

Was this our doing?

Wanda didn't follow, or perhaps keeping the conversation was all she could handle at the moment. "I don't understand. A disappearance?"

Like Wanda herself. She'd gone missing in the desert, having strong connections with humans. A full-scale search had commenced, not entirely just for her. Of course they'd be nervous if someone else went missing around here.

"It could have been an accident," the Seeker admitted. "But there might be..." He took a deep breath and finished in a rush. "Humans may be in this area."

I flinched, inhaling more sharply than a sleeping person should. I tried to turn my gasping breath into a quiet snore. I really shouldn't have panicked. I knew that was coming. Even though he could be saying that just to bait Wanda, I was scared. Scared for us, scared for the new implications.

Whether the missing soul had anything to do with us humans or not, they were now keeping watch on the desert. Our home.

They could be onto us—all of us—so easily.

Wanda understood too, at least part of the implications. "Humans?" Her voice was high with sudden alarm.

The Seeker couldn't be deaf to her fear and dismay, but, having apparently believed that she was on the level, he rushed to assuage the timid soul's qualms about dangerous rogue humans. "There's no proof of that, Leaves Above. No sightings or anything. Don't be anxious. But you should proceed on to Phoenix without unnecessary delay."

"Of course," Wanda said, speaking again as though reading dialogue from a script. "Or maybe Tucson? That would be closer."

"There's no danger. You can continue with your plans."

_Continue?_

I was floored. He was going to let us go. Allow us to drive away, despite Wanda's incompetent deception.

We were really going to get out of this.

"If you're sure, Seeker..." Wanda tried to trail off convincingly, but her feigned hesitance was interposed with the unmistakeable ecstasy of her success, so, so near. Well, it was unmistakeable to me.

"I'm quite sure. Just don't go wandering off into the desert, flower." His tone was full of concern now, the sincerity and kindness evident in just his voice.

"I wasn't planning on it," Wanda replied, with an almost indiscernible touch of irony, and I imagined Mel's delight at the gullible, puerile soul—a Seeker, a guardian against humans—being completely, haplessly duped. I almost felt sorry for him.

I'd never heard a soul speak so much before—aside from Wanda—and this one sounded so...benign. I could hardly believe that this same person could callously hunt down humans to have their minds erased. How could such a gentle creature be so cruel?

It was just a matter of perspective, I supposed. The souls thought they were doing the world a favor by subduing the last of the mindlessly violent native species.

"I'll be more careful. I know I couldn't fall asleep now." The end of Wanda's statement was punctuated by the sound of another engine. A bigger one. Approaching from the way we'd come.

The moving van.

They were catching up. They would see us.

My body suddenly became rigid with new fear as I slowly realized the new set of dangers. If Ian and Kyle saw us pulled over by a Seeker, of course they would assume the worst. They would jump to the conclusion that I had been caught, given away or betrayed by Wanda. And of course the one driving would take drastic measures.

If Ian was driving, he would no doubt stop the van and disastrously try to free Wanda from the Seeker's custody. If Kyle was driving, he would either floor the gas in an attempt to run, conversely drawing attention to himself, or he would stupidly try to attack the Seeker to save me. I didn't know which option was worse. But we couldn't communicate with them that everything was all right.

I was barely paying attention to the Seeker anymore—he was the least of our worries. Instead of being caught by a soul, we were going to give _ourselves_ away. Which would our downfall be—brash, reckless Kyle, or worrisome, overly protective Ian?

"You should not use this often," the Seeker was saying. "It's not harmful, of course, or the Healers wouldn't have us give it out. But if you use it frequently, it will alter your sleep cycles. Ah, here it is. Awake."

The engine was growing louder.

I wished I could beam my thoughts out to Kyle and Ian. _We're fine. Don't stop to help us. We're okay. Please don't make things worse._

Apparently Wanda had noticed the growing risk, because she obviously wasn't paying attention. "Miss?" the Seeker said curiously when she didn't respond.

"Um..." Wanda stumbled, truly stumbled, for the first time. "Awake?"

"Just inhale this, Leaves Above."

_Inhale?!_ What if it was a trap? I wanted nothing more than to open my eyes, to see exactly what was happening, to stop Wanda from being subdued. What if the thing the Seeker held would actually knock her out, rather than wake her up?

Too late. I heard the hiss of an aerosol can and Wanda's quiet intake of breath.

At the same time, the engine behind us slowed to a gentle thrum.

They'd stopped. And so did my heart.

"It's grapefruit scented. Nice, don't you think?"

"Very nice."

Several seconds passed. There was silence from Wanda and the Seeker, and the moving van remained idle on the road.

My fingers curled into a fist. My teeth locked in anticipation. It was coming. Something—_something_ bad—was coming. The torrent of questions, or the souls' shouts of alarm, perhaps the explosive _clap_ of a gun...

I wouldn't know what transpired in those seconds. But after ten excruciating counts, the engine of the moving van ground into motion again. It rattled past us, the noise traveling slowly across my ears and continuing into the distance ahead of us.

I breathed again.

Kyle must have been driving. There would be no way that Ian would keep going after seeing Wanda pulled over by a Seeker. But I was still shocked—and relieved—that Kyle had had enough common sense to continue. I'd been certain he would've done something rash.

Wanda let out a small breath, perhaps of relief at the passing peril, perhaps just a reaction of inhaling the aerosol spray that had, in fact, not knocked her out.

"How do you feel?"

"Alert." I imagined the stuff called Awake was something like caffeine, an energy juice. Then I imagined Wanda on caffeine and almost broke my pose by shuddering.

"It will wear off in about four hours." At least Wanda would have plenty of energy for unloading the truck when we...when we _got home._

We were going to go home. We were going to escape this net, this snare.

"Thank you," Wanda said fervently. I knew she was thanking the Seeker for much more than the caffeine mist. For buying her story. For not questioning the moving van stopping. For choosing to be a concerned, empathetic soul rather than a suspicious, distrustful Seeker.

"Thank _you,_ Leaves Above," the Seeker said with a light laugh. "When we saw you racing down the road, we thought we might have humans on our hands. I was sweating, but not from the heat!"

He had no idea. How scared _we'd_ been. Well, I'd never be tempted to speed again, that was for sure.

Wanda must have looked troubled at his last comment, because the Seeker rushed to reassure her. "Don't worry. You'll be perfectly fine. If you'd like, we can follow you to Phoenix."

"I'm just fine," Wanda said quickly. "You don't need to trouble yourself."

He didn't press the matter. "It was nice to meet you. I'll be pleased when my shift is over, so that I can go home and tell my partner I met another green-first flower. She'll be so excited."

"Um, tell her 'Brightest sun, longest day' for me."

"Certainly. Have a pleasant journey."

"And you have a pleasant night."

"Cut it, Hank," the Seeker told his colleague, and the bright light vanished from my eyelids.

I kept my eyes shut, listening to the Seekers' powerful car rev up and speed off in the opposite direction. Only when I heard Wanda start the van again did I dare to even breathe normally.

My alien companion took in shuddering gulps of air, teeth rattling in the aftershock of our crisis—and her success. "They're gone."

I swallowed hard, trying unsuccessfully to rid my throat of a huge lump of worry. "That was..." Too much. Way too much for anybody to handle. "...close."

I'd been so sure we were about to die. I'd been prepared to. Some terrible part of me had _wanted_ to, to do the easy thing and just not have to worry anymore about being caught. There had been no options. No way out.

But Wanda had gotten us out. Saved us. Against all odds, against all dangers, we were still safe. Because of her.

Would my faith in her never stop being replenished?

"I thought Kyle was going to stop," she whispered.

It _had_ been Kyle. I had underestimated him as well. "Me too." Then I thought of the person whom I'd _over_estimated. "The Seeker bought it."

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have," I muttered. "Your acting hasn't improved much."

I wondered now if any human had ever actually _lied_ to a Seeker, tried to deceive them. From what I remembered, when humans were still visible, struggling against the occupation, they preferred to attack outright. My father had done just that, and he had died from that foolishness.

No human would want to assimilate and pretend instead of fight. The souls were unprepared for that form of resistance. Especially when the deceiver had glowing silver eyes just like they did.

"They can't _not_ believe me," Wanda said with a shrug. "What I am...well, it's something impossible. Something that shouldn't exist."

No, she should exist. It was just so unlikely that she would. "Something unbelievable. Something...wonderful."

"Seekers aren't all that different from the rest of them," she said quietly. Modestly. "Nothing to be especially afraid of."

I didn't have _anything_ to be afraid of when I was out with her. She could keep me safe from anything. Any threat. "There really isn't anything you can't do, is there?"

Something seemed to click in my head. If she could do everything, then she belonged. If she belonged...there would never be any reason for her to leave. Leave Melanie.

That didn't cause the usual pang that Mel's continued imprisonment did. I saw, for the first time, how having Wanda here would be..._better_ than having Mel here. How Wanda could be so beneficial that...that her importance overshadowed my desire for Melanie.

She was so important. To us. And to me—in spite of Melanie.

Which was better, someone who made me happy, or someone who took away my fear?

I didn't want to, but I knew the answer to that question. I couldn't fight having Wanda here anymore. In fact, I almost _wanted_ her here. I craved the safety and assurance she exuded.

She pressed the accelerator—a rare action for her—and slowly caught up to the moving van. It trundled along at a snail's pace, obviously waiting for us.

I knew Kyle would think that something had happened in those short minutes, so I opened the glove box and retrieved the flashlight. Once I could see through their windshield, I shone the light into both my eyes, one at a time. Kyle acknowledged my confirmation with a nod, but Ian hardly seemed to notice. He was looking past me, his body straining to see Wanda in the driver's seat.

She gave him a airy wave. He made a face.

We passed them and returned to our side of the road, but Wanda remained only a careful, short distance ahead. "Should I go all the way to Phoenix?"

I only had to consider it a moment. I wanted to get home, off the under-surveillance road as soon as possible. "No. They might see us on the way back and stop us again. I don't think they're following. They're focused on the road."

"No, they won't follow," she agreed.

"Let's go home, then," I said eagerly.

Wanda shared my sentiment. "Home." Her tone was wistful.

She knew where the turnoff was—again, she and Mel had a great sense of direction—so I didn't have to direct her. My mind was able to wander off to the reason why the road had been patrolled in the first place.

A soul. Gone missing. Here.

It was too much to hope for a coincidence, even though the souls would first think so. This had to involve us in some way.

"What do you think happened?"

"What do you mean?" She sounded perplexed. Obviously that part of the conversation hadn't stuck in her head.

"The recent disappearance the Seeker mentioned."

"Wouldn't that be...me?" Wanda asked.

"I don't think you would count as _recent,_ Wanda," I told her, trying to count the weeks and months back to when she'd come here. A very long time ago. We'd progressed very slowly in our trust of her, but we'd come a long way.

They weren't looking for her anymore. She'd been pronounced dead. Or she would have been, if something similar hadn't happened to someone else. "Besides, they weren't watching the highway when we left—that's new. They're looking for us. Here."

Would our family do anything this reckless? For what reason? I couldn't think of any justification for this blunder—or calculated maneuver, whichever it was. "What have they been _doing?_"

It was irresponsible. Whose idea had this been, to kidnap a soul right where we lived? And why? Surely not to...

"You think Jeb and the others did something?" Wanda's voice was small and uneasy. I could guess what she was thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking. And I wasn't very happy about it.

I couldn't answer her. I didn't want to confirm her suspicions, or my own, really. Was Doc up for another round of slaughter? Was Jeb willing to take the risk of Wanda finding out about it?

Apparently so. And she had put it together in her head, guessed it without any further clues from me. I only heard a small, choked gasp.

"You okay?"

A quiet sniffle.

I glanced over at her. In the dim moonlight, tears glistened on her cheeks. Lots of them.

"Maybe I'd better drive."

She shook her head fiercely, continuing to drive in the right direction. While I didn't want her to be grieved or upset about this cruel turn of events, I was at least glad she wasn't turning traitorous. She would remain loyal.

But...what a blow.

We didn't speak anymore as she drove us home. I didn't know if she wanted my comfort—I remembered last time too well.

Wanda parked the van in the crevice we used to unload. She opened her door, sliding out without a word.

I got out too and crossed around the back. For once, Wanda wasn't springing into motion, eager to get the job done. She was slouched against her door, propping herself up for support, it seemed, brushing her tears away absentmindedly.

Her grief was so quiet, yet so crushing, that I couldn't help it. I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't know they were planning this." It was tragically ironic; she could protect us from anything, but neither she nor I could protect her kind from being slaughtered by the humans we strove to preserve.

Did her sacrifices mean nothing to them?

"I had no idea. They shouldn't have..." _They shouldn't have betrayed you._

Had Wanda not been here, had she not been doing so much for us, I might have appreciated Doc's efforts. I _did_ want Mel back. But not at this cost. Not at the expense of her alien's security and happiness.

The creaking and screeching of the moving van pulling in and braking distracted me momentarily. Ian and Kyle leapt out, both wild and panicked.

"What happened?" Kyle half-shouted, his expression betraying the deep fear he was still feeling.

Ian hurtled straight toward Wanda, knocking me aside and pulling her into his arms. At this, her quiet tears turned into full-fledged sobs.

"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "You did great. It's over."

"Seeker's not the problem, Ian," I told him tersely. My hand still rested on Mel's—Wanda's—shoulder, even though Ian's embrace made it more difficult. I didn't want to let go of her, though, not when she was so devastated.

"Huh?"

Kyle and Ian hadn't heard Wanda's conversation with the Seeker. He didn't know why there had been Seekers out here in the first place. "They were watching the road for a reason. Sounds like Doc's been...working...in our absence."

Kyle and Ian processed it even more quickly than Wanda. "Why, those—!" Ian wisely bit back the end of his ejaculation.

"Nice," Kyle grumbled. "Idiots. We're gone for a few weeks, and they've got Seekers on patrol. They could have just _asked_ us to—"

"Shut up, Kyle," I said quickly. He was taking the conversation in the wrong direction. "That's neither here nor there at the moment." Adopting my tone of authority, I went on, "We've got to get all this unloaded fast. Who knows how many are waiting for us? Let's grab a load and then get some more hands."

Thankfully, everyone jumped into motion again, the disturbing news back-burnered for the moment. Wanda collected a box, fortifying herself with the work. I took a crate of bottled water, leading the way into the tunnel.

In the darkness, I felt my face settle into a mask of hard anger. I couldn't find the pure joy and excitement I'd had earlier, before our inadvertent discovery. Now I knew, marginally, how Wanda had felt. Now I knew how it felt to trust people—whom I'd thought were good and honorable and trustworthy—and be stabbed in the back.

They'd promised they wouldn't do that anymore! What had they been thinking?!

I was going to have a serious conversation with whomever had had this idea when we returned.

Jamie must have been eagerly anticipating our arrival, because we heard his shouts and footfalls only halfway down the tunnel. "They're...back...!" The echoes scattered and magnified his words, no doubt alerting every single human in the caves. Soon enough, his blue solar-powered lantern swung into view. He was sprinting toward us.

I wondered if he knew what had transpired in our weeks away. The operation hadn't been kept from him before. What would he think of it? He knew and loved Wanda, had protested against our kidnappings. He wouldn't be running excitedly for us if something bad had gone on, would he?

I knew something was wrong the instant I saw his face.

He was pale, dirtier than usual, and severely distressed. Tear tracks on his face created streaks.

"Jamie?" I cried out, vaguely aware that Wanda had dropped her load and was heading straight for the kid exactly like I was.

He completely bypassed me, though, and ran straight for Wanda, for his sister's body and his friend's comfort. "Oh, Wanda! Oh, Jared!" Like a child, he buried his face in Wanda's shirt.

Then he told us what was wrong.

"Wes is dead! He's _dead!_ The Seeker killed him!"

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><p><strong>And that's all, folks. Thanks for reading-and reviewing, if you have the time (hint hint lol).<strong>

**I'll see ya next time,**

**Thank you for reading KylerM :-)**


	18. A Way Out

**Hi again to readers old and new! I'm so glad I was able to get this posted. And in response to a guest's inquiry as to when the next update is...it's now! Lol**

**Chapter Eighteen!**

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><p>I'd never been in shock before.<p>

Nothing had caused this. Never before, in all that I'd been through, everyone I'd lost, there had never been this...emptiness. Never before had a loss made me numb, dead. Never had my emotions been so strong that I stopped feeling them.

But now, as Jamie sobbed on Wanda's shoulder, having just delivered the devastating news, the four of us stood frozen. Statues. Kyle and Ian stared at each other, their mouths slightly open, their eyes huge.

Wanda, her head resting on Jamie's, blinked rapidly. Her tears from our previous bombshell hadn't dried, and more were quickly forming as she processed this one.

Wes was...dead?

I remembered few specifics of the following hours. Jamie refused to say anything more, to elaborate on the terrible news. He merely indicated that unloading from this entrance was out of the question.

Nothing had changed, really. We still had to get inside, to escape this desert with eyes. We drove the vans around to the smaller entrance, where we made countless trips through the crawlspace to the infirmary.

There were others helping. I couldn't remember who; they all appeared very similar in this moment. Every face echoed the outpouring of grief that Jamie had displayed upon our return. They were all silent. No one welcomed us back.

No one questioned Wanda either, or shot her looks of loathing or distrust. I was glad of that.

The sky was a light gray by the time we finished. Somehow we ended up in the kitchen, serving everyone perishables—white bread, cheese, and milk—and asking questions about the incident.

Jeb filled us in: Wes had died of a bullet to the head. Shot in the desert. By Wanda's Seeker.

Wanda's Seeker, the small, argumentative woman dressed in black, whom we'd interrogated Wanda about upon seeing her tenacity to find us.

That had happened months ago. But this soul hadn't given up.

She really had been determined—she'd still been looking. She'd finally figured out what Jeb's lines meant and had torn out here, getting dangerously close.

And when Wes, Brandt, and Jeb went out to stop her from destroying the desert and bringing others here, they'd forgotten: She packed a Glock.

It had ended bloody. Wes was in the grotto. Brandt was scarred. And we had another soul as our prisoner.

Ian, Kyle, and I took the news in grim silence. Wanda was seated apart from the rest of us, not eating, her back against the rock wall, her head slumped in between her knees, buried in her arms. I didn't know if she was listening to the grisly tale, or if she'd want to.

"Where's Lily?" Ian murmured when Jeb fell silent.

No one answered him. I scanned the room, my stomach dropping. Lily. If anyone would be taking Wes' death worse than Wanda in the corner, it would be the new love of Wes' short life.

Lily was nowhere to be seen. I knew the kind of pain she had to be in.

Jeb spoke up again. "Wanda, you should know...we kept her alive because we thought..._I_ thought you might want to talk to her. But if you don't, we're all pretty eager to be done with her. If you know what I mean."

"Jeb," Ian said quietly, glancing over Wanda with concern. He and I both knew how much she would hate that sentiment.

"Brandt and Aaron are real tired of guard duty, kid. She's a handful. Not like you were. It's best if we...take care of her fast."

I didn't envy them right now. I remembered the agony I'd gone through guarding Wanda, thinking she'd killed someone I loved. The hatred I'd felt toward her...

Wanda hadn't responded to anything Jeb had said. Jamie, kneeling beside her, had reversed their earlier roles and was now comforting her.

"Wanda?" Jeb repeated. "Wanda?" He moved from behind the counter to stand over her.

Jamie tapped her arm gently. Wanda's head shot up. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"The boys want to know if you have any questions for the Seeker."

Wanda passed a hand over her eyes. "If...I don't?"

"They're ready to be done with guard duty. It's a hard time. They'd rather be with their friends right now."

Wanda nodded, attempting an icy calm. "Okay. I guess I'd better...go and see her at once, then." She stood shakily, squeezing her hands into fists to hide her nerves.

I could tell she had no desire to speak to the soul who'd chased her out here, causing fear and death. Yet she couldn't bring herself to say no, she had no questions, because that would result in our prisoner's immediate execution. Wanda would refuse to be the cause of that. I knew her too well.

Jamie picked up on her mood, too. "You okay?"

She nodded unconvincingly, the small, twitchy motion not masking her aversion and dread.

"You don't have to," Jeb reminded her.

She took a sharp breath, swiping the tears from her face. "It's okay."

Jamie took his sister's hand. "I'll come with you," he said earnestly.

Wanda shook his hand off, her expression hardening into something fiercer—for a moment, I saw Mel in her face. "Oh, no, you will _not._"

The kid stepped back, his jaw set in a mulish, obstinate line. He let her go without a word, though his eyes followed her doggedly.

I watched Wanda march determinedly from the kitchen. At the door, she turned and our gazes met for a brief second. Her eyes, once so sensitive, now didn't flicker at all when they locked with mine.

The Seeker had severely rattled her, yes. But there was something else going on in her shared brain. Something...sinister. Unsettling.

What was she thinking? She still scared me sometimes.

With Wanda and Jeb gone, the crowd's focus was lost, and people began to dissipate. Jamie moved to sit between me and Ian.

I agreed with Wanda—he didn't need to be anywhere near the Seeker who'd killed Wes. He would be unhealthily intrigued by her, and she would do her best to manipulate or scare him. Wanda herself was scared of this woman, and she hadn't even flinched in the face of death earlier tonight. This soul was bad news.

So to distract Jamie, I clapped him on the shoulder. "How is she? She looked pretty bad."

Jamie's sullen, rebellious expression faded, replaced with worry. "I think she's blaming herself for it. She kept saying, 'I killed him.' I think. She was real quiet. She didn't want me to hear."

"She thinks it's _her_ fault Wes died?" Ian repeated, incredulous. Then he rolled his eyes. "Of course she does. And how do you tell her that's not true? After all, all she had to do was _come_ here..." He trailed off into a disgruntled mumble.

I was continually amazed by Wanda's continual ability to blame herself for everything. We humans were so unwilling to shoulder responsibility for things that _were_ our fault. Yet Wanda felt responsible for things she'd had nothing—or very little—to do with. I couldn't understand feeling like that—feeling like my existence caused a whole chain of problems that I had to feel guilty for.

"Lily's really torn up," Jamie blurted.

My heart went out to her. Lily had lost everyone—_everyone_—she loved, and yet when I'd arrived here, broken and bitter from just one loss, she'd been the most cheerful person here. I never would have guessed that her entire family had been overtaken, and she'd had to kill her own brother in cold blood in order to escape them.

Yet Wes' death had shattered her—from what Jamie and everyone had said, rendered her nonfunctional.

Yes, it had been true love.

"Where is she?" Ian asked. His expression was one of tenderness, one he lately reserved for looking at Wanda.

"Last I checked, in her room. I could hear her crying all last night." Jamie's face contorted, the boy trying desperately to remain stoic like all the men around him.

Ian stood. "I'll go see her. Bring her some food."

As he left, a gloomy hush fell over us remaining. My thoughts wandered after Mel and Wanda, confronting the soul they'd both hated, feared, run away from. They'd been so composed against all other threats. Dealing with souls who were strangers didn't scare Wanda. Would her spirit break with the return of the Seeker, her longtime menace?

For so long, the Seeker had been nothing but a phantom, haunting the backs of our minds. I had half hoped that, after the helicopter sweeps, she had given up for good. Of course she hadn't.

In the silence, Kyle had no words. He rose and lumbered from the kitchen, kneading his brow in a manner that translated to fatigue.

I was exhausted, too, but for some reason I couldn't stop thinking—worrying—about Wanda. She was always so calm, even in the beginning. Nothing had unhinged her with fear like the dangerous, trigger-happy soul we were keeping in the same prison hole Wanda had once been housed in. The mere mention of her had sent Wanda into a tailspin.

Jamie rested his head on the counter. "Raid good?" he mumbled.

I began speaking, mechanically, without thinking. I needed to distract myself from the present, the numb grief and shock. So I told Jamie about the raid, from start to finish. Told him about Wanda's cover stories, about our fake names in the hotels. The sleeping arrangements that had so irked me. The soul family we'd seen with the human baby. I even told him that Wanda had spoken to a Seeker to keep us out of trouble—I left out our terror.

Jamie was too drained, too unlike himself now to ask any questions. He just listened mindlessly, hearing my stories without taking in a word.

We were interrupted, before too long, by Jeb. He seemed carefully composed as he asked where Wanda was, but I knew the old man too well. Whatever she'd done before vanishing had unnerved him too.

She had, according to Jeb, had a short, heated conversation with the prisoner. Then she'd told Jeb she had one more question—and had fled.

Fled. Run away. If this flight was anything like the last one, we were in trouble. What would the Seeker have said to upset Wanda that much?

Jamie whipped his head around to face me. "Jared, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," I murmured. Something had snapped tonight for all of us, and I wasn't sure if things were ever going to be the same in these caves. Wanda was taking Wes's death—and our infiltration—very personally. I wasn't sure if _she_ was the same.

I stood abruptly. "Jamie, bed?"

The kid rose with a deep sigh. The bags under his eyes, the new tightness of his mouth, made him look old and weary beyond his years.

Wes had only been a few years older than Jamie. They'd been good friends. Now Wes was gone and Jamie was scarred—even more scarred. And Wanda, our anchor on the last raid, was guilt-ridden and erratic.

I wanted to meet the being who'd caused these disasters.

I walked Jamie to our room, watched him sprawl facedown on the big mattress. I'd missed my bed, lumpy as it was, but now I had no desire to be welcomed home by sleep. I was disturbed beyond exhaustion.

Turning my back on the kid, I strode out of our sleeping corridor, toward the main entrance.

I followed the familiar route toward what we could now accurately call our holding area. My feet stopped instinctively in the dark, twisty tunnel when I heard an unfamiliar voice.

"I'm still hungry. Honestly, do you humans eat just one bowl of soup a day? If that disgusting slop can be called _soup._ Is this the plan? To slowly poison me to death? It won't work. More are coming for me."

"Shut up." I heard, relievedly, a familiar voice. It was worn, though, ragged and frayed from stress and pain. Its owner was clearly sore of hearing such complaints.

"Brandt," I called, breaking into a brisk trot around the last corner, toward the glow at the end of the hall.

The setup wasn't what I expected. When we'd kept Wanda prisoner here, we'd crammed her into the storage hole for days on end with strict rations and exercise time—and we hadn't even known what her intentions were, good or bad.

Our new prisoner was proven guilty beyond any doubt of first-degree murder. She was being convicted without trial or plea. She was, in fact, on death row.

Perhaps that was why she was set up comfortably on a sleeping mat in the middle of the corridor, on her feet, and moving freely. Brandt and Aaron stood about twenty feet back, guns in hand, watching the small woman pace forcefully around her living space.

"Hey," Brandt greeted me wearily. He wore a ragged wifebeater, and I saw the distinct scar the Seeker's bullet had left him, in the hollow space just below his shoulder.

I motioned to the soul with a weak grin. "Never seen someone walk so _angrily._"

"She's got a bit of pent-up rage," Aaron remarked dryly. "I'm telling you, you had it easy, man."

"Not offering to trade." My remark trailed into disinterest as I watched the woman lope up and down the tunnel with the air of a caged animal, looking everywhere and nowhere, bristling with aggression but never daring to come within ten feet of her guards.

She was so small. Smaller than Mel, less powerful too, physically. But there was something fierce about her, something dark. The soul in this body didn't have a human conscience like Wanda did, but _something_ set her apart, even from normal souls. This alien was willing to kill.

Upon noticing me, she halted her workout, stealing small, defiant glances at me, the newcomer. Then her eyes narrowed, and she spoke in that nasally, shrill voice that reminded me of a petulant child's. "I know you."

"Do you, now?" I leveled my gaze at her, not disguising my anger. Was she really going to try to play with my head?

"You're...you're Jared Howe. Melanie Stryder's partner. So you _were_ out here, then."

My stomach was performing uneasy twists. She knew my name, what I looked like? Had I been putting us in danger by showing my face to the soul world? Pushing away my newfound fears, I set my teeth and continued to glare at her.

"What you did to Wanderer...it was unacceptable."

These words threw me off even more. "What did I do?"

The Seeker spoke coldly and plainly. "She remembered you. Memories of you caused her to grow soft toward humans. She lost her way. And she let that...that human inside her take over. You weakened her."

I could only listen to these accusations. These happenstances, these lucky things that had happened and caused us to gain an alien ally—she was blaming _me_ for them.

Perhaps sensing my lack of reaction, contempt seeped into her voice. "Humans like you are the worst. You can be kind. You can be loving—or act that way. But you're all monsters underneath." Her jaw tightened, her nostrils flaring.

What was she trying to say? She hardly seemed to be talking about me anymore. It was almost as if...as if she was trying to communicate some double meaning. Like she had some personal vendetta against humans.

I couldn't argue with her, though, what she said about me, about humans. What we'd done to Wanda...it _was_ monstrous. We'd kidnapped her, held her for weeks against her will. We'd slaughtered her family behind her back while she trusted us. And when she'd turned around and asked for our trust, we'd denied her that.

But I couldn't let this soul know she'd gotten to me. I stepped forward, indicating with my eyes to Brandt and Aaron to have their guns ready. I kept walking until she and I were only a few feet apart. Until her silvery eyes grew wide with fear. Until she could hear my low, growling mutter.

"You're the monster. And not you as in all aliens. _You._ Wanda's no monster. She's ours."

I wasn't able to defend myself—what she'd said about me was true. But I could defend Wanda. She hadn't been _weakened_ by her love for me and Jamie—it had given her the drive to brave the deadly desert and angry human rebels to make sure we were safe. She was the strongest person, human or not, that I knew.

"Oh, and by the way...Mel never took over. All of this happened because of _Wanda._"

Before I could turn dramatically and storm away, she was hissing furiously back at me. "Which one?"

I was taken aback. "Sorry?"

"Which one do you actually love?" Her silver-rimmed eyes sparkled with venom. Venom and umbrage and...wonder. "Melanie Stryder? Or Wanderer?"

Words failed me.

I clenched my jaw, keeping it from falling open in shock. She thought.._that_ was why I defended our alien? Or why I was so angry? Because of...love? For..._Wanda?_

What did she think she was seeing in me?

There was an honest curiosity in the Seeker's face. She really thought she'd struck something.

Or she was playing with me.

When I finally answered, my voice was smooth and precise, devoid of surprise or perturbment. "What kind of question is that?"

She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me, still apparently waiting for an answer.

I wouldn't give her that pleasure.

I turned on my heel, striding away from her, past her guards, and into the merciful blackness of the tunnel.

"We will catch you! Eventually!"

We never should have been afraid of Wanda. This Seeker, the one pursuing her, should have been the one to fear all along. She was dangerous, manipulative, finagling. She would say anything, do whatever it took to throw us off, to even have a prayer of escape. She had the _nerve_ to insinuate...

That was absurd. Just because I was willing to defend Wanda didn't mean I had _feelings_ for her. I'd just spent enough time around her to realize what a good person she was. I _knew_ her.

I had sworn to myself to never be so stubborn or hateful toward a soul again, but this soul was an exception. She was much more brutish and primitive than others of her kind, more so even than the humans here. She felt no remorse at all for putting a human down. She was all bluster, threats, and hateful energy.

But what had she meant? What had I said that would make her think that...there was something between Wanda and me? I had said she was _ours._ Meaning that she belonged to _our_ side, not the souls'. She was our ally, our friend. We—most of us—were willing to defend her. Vehemently, if necessary. Right? That was what I'd done, but the Seeker had thought it meant something different.

Yet...what had clued me in, at the beginning, that Ian had feelings for Wanda? He'd been vehement that she was good, gotten angry at me when I expressed my distrust.

And I'd gotten angry at the Seeker.

What did that mean? Surely that Seeker hadn't sincerely thought...

No, Ian and I were different people. The Seeker was just playing with my head.

I hoped Wanda would come back and ask her last question so we could be done with this poisonous soul.

When I arrived back at my room, I tried to move the screen quietly, discreetly, but Jamie woke with a start anyway. "Wanda?" he mumbled drowsily.

"Nope. Just me, kid." I plunked down beside him on the mattress. "I went to go see that Seeker."

Jamie propped himself up on an elbow. "I snuck down to see her, when they first brought her in. They wouldn't let me talk to her. She yells a lot."

"Sure does," I mused, my mind still half on the conversation I'd had with the pugnacious soul. "Why is she so...free?" It didn't make much sense to me. She ought to have been punished, at least to the degree that we'd tormented Wanda.

"It was Jeb's idea," Jamie said, burying his face in the pillow. "He figures there's no use torturing her. Wanda wasn't exactly a serial killer. This Seeker still hates it, though. Says it's inhumane, even for humans."

"I know." So it wasn't really about the Seeker. It was about making up for Wanda's treatment. Wanda had been completely innocent, but we'd stuffed her in a hole for a week. I could only imagine how uncomfortable she must have been, she and Mel.

The moving screen door alerted Jamie and me to the reappearance of our missing person. Jamie immediately ran to her, throwing his arms around her. Wanda caught him, a little bemusedly.

"Are you all right?" I asked, half rising from the mattress. She had a distant look in her eye as she held Jamie. Distracted. Troubled, almost.

Her lips trembled. She held my gaze for a minute before speaking. "Jared, I need your help."

She hadn't answered my question, hadn't said she was okay. Her eyes looked haunted. And she clung to Jamie like she was holding him for the last time.

That meant she wasn't all right.

But if she was asking me for something, if I could help in any way, I would. So I leapt to my feet. "What do you need me to do?" I would have loved to kill the Seeker right now if that was what she wanted.

"I'm making a raid. I could use some...extra muscle."

Outside again? We had literally just returned. What had we forgotten?

Or had the need for it just arisen?

"What are we after?" I inquired, mentally mapping out our plan of attack. Running through the desert again, for sure, perhaps waiting till nightfall again, since dawn was approaching soon...

"I'll explain on the way. We don't have a lot of time."

So we'd run back to the garage tonight and spend the day there. She wanted to get out quick, without telling anyone else. Without any fuss.

Did this have something to do with the Seeker?

I trusted her now. I didn't doubt her motivations or abilities on the outside. But her behavior filled me with a burning curiosity.

Jamie looked up at Wanda, hope in his eyes. "Can I come?"

This seemed like a raid for adults only. So I told him, "No."

My rather gentle response was drowned by Wanda's much more forceful rejection. She'd nearly _shouted_ it at him. Surprised and hurt by her outburst, Jamie returned to his mattress, cradling his chin in his hands, his lower lip sticking out childishly.

Yes, something was definitely wrong with Wanda. She in her normal state would never have dared hurt Jamie's feelings like that.

As we headed away from our sleeping corridor, my mind began to work through the subtleties of her request. The nuances.

If all she needed was extra muscle on a raid, she could have asked Ian. She was more comfortable around him, and I knew the two of them could survive on the outside alone. He would've been more than willing to go, and he probably would've been better at cheering her up, to be honest. So Wanda either needed more than muscle on this raid—namely, my expertise—or...she was avoiding Ian. Going on his raid without him—without even telling him, perhaps.

What would she need that she wouldn't want Ian to know about? Or anyone?

No sooner than that question crossed my mind, I noticed the peculiarity of our route. I was following Wanda not toward the main exit, but toward the south tunnel.

That was odd. Sure, our prisoner was housed by the main way out, but the two of us could have easily slipped past without her suspecting anything.

"Why this way?" I asked Wanda.

Her shoulders tensed immediately. "I...I don't want to run into anyone. Jeb, Aaron, or Brandt, particularly."

So this did have something to do with the Seeker—and her guards. "Why?"

"I don't want to have to explain myself to them. Not yet."

We'd entered the pitch-black south tunnel. I couldn't see her face, whether it was guilty or scared or some other out-of-place emotion. I couldn't, for once, tell what Wanda was thinking.

When she spoke again, she seemed a little more her usual self. Concerned. Caring. "Do you know where Lily is? I don't think she should be alone. She..." Wanda couldn't seem to find words to describe how Lily was.

"Ian's with her," I told her. I hadn't had the courage to peek in Lily's room, although it was mere yards away from ours. I was a coward when it came to grief—I'd had too much.

My curiosity couldn't be contained anymore. "What are we in such a hurry to get?"

There was silence for a few seconds, and I thought she wasn't going to answer me. Then I heard the deep breath, meaning she was steeling herself to reply.

"Cryotanks."

That one word set my mind spinning. _Cryotanks._

We were going to steal the mysterious, otherworldly containers that were for housing souls...souls without bodies.

What were we going to do with those?

I knew that Wanda didn't want to be the cause of the Seeker's death. I knew that she would have cringed at the sound of the gunshot echoing through the caves, and tears would have filled her eyes again at yet more death. She would have blamed herself, even though none of it was her fault.

If I knew Wanda, I would guess that she'd do everything in her power so that the Seeker wouldn't die.

Was this her solution?

Could she really save the Seeker from the body it was possessing? Take her out, like Doc had tried to do so many times, without hurting the human? Put her in a cryotank, so she would never have a chance of telling anyone about us?

So...Wanda could do that?

I couldn't answer Wanda. My voice wasn't working. My mind was reeling, trying to sort out these revelations, work through them to find the grain of truth that was slowly dawning on me.

If Wanda had known how to remove souls this entire time, had she not told us for a reason? Had she not wanted to? Or not trusted us enough? Why hadn't she let us know how get our loved ones back?More importantly...

_Would_ she?

If Wanda showed Doc how to take the Seeker out, then...what would follow? What would happen to Wanda? She was a soul, and if we knew how to take souls out...what would that mean for her?

And...Mel?

I was no longer raging, demanding Wanda's removal. But what if...what if Wanda was thinking about...

I didn't dare consider it. More than likely Wanda was making these plans without realizing the ramifications they'd have on her. She surely wasn't really planning to...

No. I didn't want her to, did I? And there was no way. No way she would do that.

If she was making this raid with half-baked plans, though, we couldn't go through with it. We had to devise a safe way to get these things—if she really wanted them—and I had no clue about them, knew nothing about them.

"Where do we get...them?"

Her reply was instantaneous and extremely comprehensive. "Empty cryotanks are stored outside Healing facilities until they're needed. With more souls coming in than leaving, there will be a surplus. No one will guard them; no one will notice if some go missing."

"Are you sure?" I pressed her. "Where'd you get this information?"

"I saw them in Chicago, piles and piles of them," she said calmly. Willingly giving me all the information she could. "Even the little facility we went to in Tucson had a small store of them, crated outside the delivery bay."

I felt like a jerk, grilling her. "If they were crated, then how can you be sure..."

"Haven't you noticed our fondness for labels?" she asked, a touch of teasing raillery in her voice. She might have been smiling at my cynicism.

"I'm not doubting you. I just..." _Want to know. What this means for us._ "...want to make sure you've thought this through."

Again, she responded right away. Hard and fast and cold. "I have."

She had.

My mouth moved automatically, speaking for me on reflex. "Let's get it done, then." I was in shock again.

Wanda was smart enough to know what I'd really been asking her. She'd given me an answer without hesitation. And now I knew.

She was going to give Melanie back.

Several things had fallen into place when Wanda had told me what we were raiding for, cryotanks. They were for souls that weren't in someone's brain—and how they transported to other planets, if I wasn't mistaken.

If Wanda wanted one of those, that meant she wanted to put a soul in it—our current problem, the vengeful Seeker. Removing the soul from her host body would remove the need to kill her, which I knew was what Wanda really wanted. But in order to remove the soul, she'd have to show us how.

And if Wanda was going to show us how to remove souls, then that would give us power over her. Power to remove _her_ if we wanted.

And there was some part of us—some part of _me_—that did want it.

I'd never do it. Not on my own, not without her permission. I cared about Wanda too much to take advantage of her like that, even though she wouldn't fight me.

But she was _volunteering._ She knew what might happen if she followed through with saving the Seeker. She understood. And she was doing it anyway.

That meant she was willing. Was going to do it herself, probably.

Trade her body in.

If she had really decided that we were trustworthy of the knowledge, of how to save ourselves, our species, then she'd decided that her body—Melanie, whom she knew was loved and missed—was worthy of returning. She wasn't stuck in Mel's body, like I'd assumed. There was a way out.

And she was taking it.

I couldn't guess every part of her plan. I didn't know what Wanda could do with herself, or what we could do with her, once she was out of Mel. Get her another body, or send her to another planet, wherever she wanted to go. She'd be free.

And I would have _Mel._ I was going to get the love of my life back.

Thinking about that...nothing else seemed to matter.

I'd been apart from her for so long. Sometimes our separation still caused me pain, real, tangible pain. What if...what if we could really put all that behind us? What if nothing could stop us from being together again?

We reached the hospital. Wanda, unfazed now by the long trek in darkness, didn't even glance at me, or around at the empty room; she headed straight for the crawlspace. I trailed behind, now imagining the scene that might soon become my reality: Watching Wanda open her eyes, seeing light catch her gaze...and have no reflection beam back.

Mel's eyes, her human eyes, meeting mine and crinkling into a smile...

What would we say? What _would_ there be to say?

I'd given up ever being with her, just her, ever again. I'd accepted our situation. I'd given up being truly happy. Having Mel back...would be a miracle.

I could hardly process how wonderful that would be.

The sky was graying when we finally reached the outside, which helped as we clambered down the steep, rocky slope. We hit the flat desert running; I could still sense Wanda's urgency. She seemed to want to get as far away from the caves as quickly as possible.

If my deductions were correct, and all of this was to save the Seeker—and, by extension, Mel—then I wanted to hurry, too. I pushed myself harder through the sand.

Then I heard Wanda heave a loud sigh, clearly discrete from our deep, measured running breaths. My eyes snapped over to her, jogging just a little ahead of me. She didn't turn when I looked, but I could see that her face was long and pensive.

I wondered why for half a second, then I felt like an idiot.

She was thinking about the same thing I was, only she wasn't so happy about it.

She was struggling.

How could I overlook the sacrifice she was making? This had to be a struggle for her, deciding to give up the good life she had for someone who, to her, was already very real and present. How hard would that have to be?

How much did she have to care about Mel to do that?

I tried to imagine her predicament—having a life, being around people who loved her, being _happy,_ but choosing to give it all up for someone _she_ loved.

Even though I knew Wanda's selflessness would compel her to do this for Melanie, I could never forget that she had feelings. Human feelings, for me and Jamie and Ian and others. But she was willing to give everything up for Mel. Leave everything behind, to do the right thing and give her body back to its rightful owner.

Man. That was...a steep price. Worth it to me, but what about her?

It was like our first raid. I knew Wanda hadn't _enjoyed_ stabbing herself in the arm, but she'd done it without question because she had seen it as the right thing to do.

And this situation couldn't be fixed in minutes with magic soul medicine. This decision Wanda made would be permanent.

She must have really wanted to save Mel. And of course it was the right thing to do. But how much was it costing her? Already? I felt conflicted _for_ her.

A little.

If this was something she was choosing to do, I wasn't going to argue with her. I couldn't deny how much I wanted Mel back.

But if she was willing to go this far, to take herself out of her host and give Melanie back to us, then Wanda had just won my utmost respect and affection.

Someone that selfless...how could she not be held in the highest regard? How could I ever thank her enough for this?

How could I tell her...goodbye?

I tried to shake off my growing uneasiness, tried to focus on the joy of Mel possibly coming back. And that was fairly easy.

We reached the garage in good time, just barely beating the sunrise. I found some bottled water in the backseat of the jeep. Pausing only to toss one to Wanda, I greedily drank the majority of mine, sating my thirst before I could talk.

"I could tell you were in a hurry to get out of there. But we need to wait until dark if you're planning a smash-and-grab."

She looked over at me, nodding her consent before she finished her drink. "That's fine. I'm sure they'll wait for us now."

She still acted a little dazed. Kind of distracted. Lost in thought.

I suddenly couldn't stop looking at her, at the face of the woman I loved so deeply. Now, of course, it belonged to someone else. Someone just as amazing. Someone else who...who I...

"I saw your Seeker," I blurted to divert the direction of my thoughts. "She's..." I could hardly think of one word to describe the unpleasant woman. "Energetic." Dangerous. Manipulative. Insightful.

What if she was right?

Wanda nodded her agreement. "And vocal."

A smile formed on my lips. I was more than willing to deride the Seeker with Wanda. "She doesn't seem to enjoy the accommodations we provided."

Wanda's voice dropped an octave. "Could be worse." I saw that she was staring determinedly at the ground.

Of course she'd noticed the difference in her captivity and that of the Seeker. "That's true." I felt guilty just thinking about it.

"Why are they so kind to her?" she whispered plaintively. "She killed Wes."

She was...hurt. What they'd done, no doubt _for_ her, was hurting her feelings. That was unexpected.

I didn't want her to be sad.

I made my reply light. Teasing. "Well, that's your fault." I grinned at her.

"Mine?"

"They didn't want to feel like monsters. Not again. They're trying to make up for...before. Only a little too late. And with the wrong soul." That was what Jamie had told me. It had made sense, thinking about it from Wanda's perspective. "I didn't realize that would hurt your feelings. I would've thought you'd like it better that way."

She must have really hated that Seeker—to want her to suffer. So what had compelled her to _save_ the woman?

"I do." Wanda forced a thin smile. "It's always better to be kind. I just...I'm glad I know why."

"It's not a good feeling," I said. "Knowing that you profoundly deserve the title of _monster._ It's better to be kind than to feel guilty."

Or to be kind _because_ of guilt. Was that what I was feeling right now? Why I felt so strongly for Wanda's pain? Because...I felt guilty for _wanting_ her to leave? Leave Mel, at least?

My mouth contorted into a long, eye-watering yawn. Wanda put a hand over her mouth as she instinctively copied me.

"Long night," I groaned, stretching. "And we've got another one coming. We should sleep." It had been an unbelievably long night, in fact. So much stress, and shock, and grief. So much had transpired...

Wanda turned her back on me, lying down on a patch of sand near the jeep. She stretched her body to its full height, then curled back into a ball.

That was another thing that made her different from Mel. Mel liked to stretch out on her back when she laid down to sleep. Wanda tended to fold herself into a fetal position, probably to take up less space.

I missed Mel.

Lying on the hard ground couldn't really be very comfortable. On an impulse, I positioned myself on the sand behind her back, curling up close to her body.

"Here." I lifted her head and placed my arm under it so she'd rest better. Melanie always woke up irritable and sore when she slept without any head elevation. That was why Wanda piled blankets under her head before she laid down beside Jamie every night.

My other arm wound around her waist, holding her close to me. She stiffened at my touch, as always, but took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. "Th...thanks."This was nice.

How long had I gone without this? It felt like an eternity. Yet having her here now, in my arms, it also felt like no time had passed.

Could I get this back?

I yawned comfortably, already dropping off. "Get some rest...Wanda."

I'd caught myself just in time.

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><p><strong>Thanks again for reading! Leave some feedbackcomments below, if you want :-)**

**If you've reviewed in the past, or are about to, many thanks! I appreciate it more than you can know.**

**Everybody have an awesome December,**

**Thank you for reading KylerM!**


	19. Within Reach

**Hi everybody! Here's the next chapter, and I'm quickly coming to the realization that this story is...going to end...fairly soon. And I'm both excited and incredibly sad about it. This story has been the most fun one I've ever written :-)**

**That being said, there are still a couple chapters to finish and for you to enjoy, and here's chapter nineteen!**

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><p>When I woke, it was late afternoon. My arm was numb under Mel's—Wanda's—head, but I didn't mind. Holding her felt so...right. She was still sleeping. I didn't want to disturb her, so I held still. Kept my arm around her.<p>

Watching the light outside the cave gradually shift and fade, I tried to sift through my thoughts. Wanda had a way of tangling them up.

The central question at the knot of wonderings and speculations was simple: Was Wanda really going to save Mel?

It was so unthinkable and so obvious at the same time. Giving her body back was right in line with Wanda's character. I almost should have expected it. Just...for so long, I had thought that it was impossible. I'd thought that Wanda was stuck in Melanie unless she went to a Healer. That only Healers knew how.

But Wanda knew. And she was going to tell us.

And I was filled with more hope than I had been since I'd discovered Mel was still alive. Not only was she not dead, there was a real possibility we might...be together again.

I wanted that more than anything.

If Mel could _not_ be a prisoner in her own head, then why on earth _was_ she? If Wanda could get herself out and bring Mel back, then of course she needed to do it. I really only wondered why Wanda had waited for so long to decide this.

Maybe it had seemed unthinkable to her, too. So terrible and impossible that she'd never considered it. Or...

Or maybe it had been in her mind the whole time. And she hadn't wanted to reveal that crucial information. Hadn't wanted to leave us. Leave...me.

_Would_ she be leaving? Where would she go? I looked down at her, inches from me, watched her breathe in and out, slowly, peacefully. Would this gentle soul, this remarkable girl, be gone soon, out of my life?

Did it really matter?

I would have Melanie back. I would have her by my side at meals, while we worked in the gardens, she would have my back on raids, she and I could share the room with the green screen...

Nothing mattered more than that. If I was right in my conjectures, then I wanted nothing more than to make my dream a corporeal reality. If Wanda was going to do this, then I was going to help her. Speed the process up as much as possible.

The sun was almost gone, the light in the sky a dim orange. I figured it was safe enough for us to begin our journey. I moved to shake Wanda awake. "Hey."

She moved sleepily, stretching herself out as though in a trance. "Wh...time is it?"

I gently pulled my arm from under her head so I could get up. "Almost dark." I headed for the jeep and rummaged through the trunk. There were some dehydrated meals in here, if I remembered correctly.

Granola bars. Good enough.

I brought some back to Wanda, helping her to her feet and handing her her half-empty water bottle from this morning. We ate quickly, silently, while Wanda fixed her gaze on the mouth of the cave, watching the desert darken.

I didn't know what she was thinking. I couldn't tell how conflicted she was about the choices she was making. If she really wanted to do this.

She finished her meager fare quickly and headed straight for the jeep. I followed her, trying to get my head in the space for raiding.

"Still in a hurry?" I asked as I climbed behind the wheel. Maybe she wasn't too eager anymore, now that she'd slept on it. Maybe now I was going to have to be the driving force. Because this thing was getting done, if I had anything to do with it.

"Yes," she murmured, buckling her seatbelt.

All right, then. She was still set.

"We'll hit Phoenix, then," I said, making my tone businesslike. Not too excited. Not hasty. "It's logical that they wouldn't notice this kind of raid. It doesn't make sense for humans to take your cold-storage tanks." I baited the end of my remark, half-joking. "What possible use could _we_ have for them?"

She didn't say anything. Turned her head away from me. I hoped I hadn't hurt her feelings.

We drove, as Wanda and I usually did, in silence. She watched the dimly lit landscape, wearing a vacantly contemplative expression. Like she was _trying_ not to think but not quite succeeding.

I tried not to think, either. My questions wouldn't get answered before we finished this raid, so there was no need to drive myself crazy.

I drove us to the hideout, where we traded my all-terrain jeep for the low-profile silver car with the quietly powerful engine. Then we continued on our journey. Through the rest of the desert, to the highway. Unobtrusively pulling on to the highway. Joining the trickling stream of cars headed for Phoenix. Never letting my speed drift even one mile above the limit.

It was all very easy.

I had hardly ever been to Phoenix, but we spotted the hospital from the highway and took the exit straight to it.

Navigating through the extensive parking lot, I gritted my teeth. There were souls here. Lots of them. Walking in and out of the building, to and from cars, some passing within feet of our car.

I knew Wanda would protect me from them, but I was plagued with worry about my eyes. In such close proximity, a soul might see the difference between Wanda's eyes and mine. I wished it weren't dark, so I could don a pair of sunglasses.

"Where now?" I inquired tightly, trying to ease the pit of anxiety in my stomach.

Almost unnaturally self-possessed, she directed me around the back of the hospital, where we discovered rows of large trucks parked up against freight docks. Wanda pointed out the labeled crates of Healing supplies. "Heal, Cool...Still? I wonder what that one is," she mused.

I maneuvered the sedan further around the back of the hospital, coming to another, separate building. Here, the freight crew stacked boxes with delicate, deliberate care, as though the crates were full of glass. Or...sleeping babies.

Wanda confirmed my instinct. "This is the place we want. They're unloading occupied tanks right now. The empty ones won't be far..." Her eyes combed the loading ports. "Oh! There, on the other side—that shed is half full of them. I'll bet the closed sheds are all the way full." She pointed out the remote little buildings away from the docks. They were removed from the activity, out of the circle of lights, largely ignored.

This was going to be a piece of cake. I passed the sheds, knowing the workers would question us if we joined their operation—we could come back in a few minutes.

Heading back to the main parking lot, I noticed for the first time the huge lettering on the side of the building where they were keeping the souls: MATERNITY.

I scoffed quietly at the irony of it.

"What?" Wanda said.

"Figures," I snorted. "See?" I indicated the sign with my head.

"Ah," she said, torn between amusement and disquiet. "Well...you'll always know where to look, won't you?"

That did it. That little comment, those few casual words hinting that she wouldn't always be here to do these raids, peaked my curiosity. I had to ask her outright. Or perhaps in a roundabout way. I wanted to know that the signs were real, that this wasn't just something in my head, something I'd cooked up because I wanted it to be true.

My gaze flickered to her face, but I forced them back to the windshield. "We'll have to wait for a bit. Looked like they were almost finished." I found us a spot at the back of the main parking lot, one that didn't bathe us in streetlight. I switched off the engine and collapsed back against the leather seat.

Without looking at Wanda, I reached over, grasping until I found her hand. She squeezed mine very lightly, very hesitantly. Her muscles were taut.

"Wanda?" I said, still lacking the courage to look at her. I didn't want to have to see the possible indecision or pain in her eyes when I asked her if she was leaving.

"Yes?" There was hesitancy in her voice, too.

I couldn't say it outright. "You're...going to save the Seeker, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

My heart leapt. At least one of my inferences was correct. "Because it's the right thing to do?"

I heard her smile now, in her voice. "That's one reason."

I tried to ask the less painful questions. "You know how to get the soul out without hurting the body?" _Are you going to do it to yourself?_

She was silent for a moment. "Yes. I've done it before, in an emergency. Not _here._"

My curiosity suddenly shifted focus. "Where?" I asked. "What was the emergency?" It had been forever since I'd heard Wanda tell a soul story. Jamie always liked hearing them in the evening. I would play disinterested, or sometimes even feign sleep, but I had always been listening.

"On the Mists Planet," Wanda answered. "I was with my friend Harness Light and a guide—I don't remember the guide's name. They called me Lives in the Stars there; I already had a bit of a reputation."

I laughed at that. From her stories, Wanda had been more adventurous in her past lives than here. I wasn't quite sure how we humans had ever scared her.

"We were making a pilgrimage across the fourth great ice field, to see on of the more celebrated crystal cities," Wanda continued, getting into her storytelling mode. "It was supposed to be a safe route. That's why there were only three of us.

"Claw beasts like to dig pits and bury themselves in the snow—camouflage, you know. A trap.

"One moment, there was nothing but flat, endless snow, then, the next moment, it seemed like he entire field of white was exploding into the sky.

"An adult average Bear has about the mass of a buffalo," she explained to me. "A full-grown claw beast is closer to the mass of a blue whale...this one was bigger than most."

I tried to picture the scene—it was weird. My limited imagination pasted Melanie's face onto the head of a giant, six-armed grizzly, facing off against a mountainous polar bear with fangs and long, crab-like pincers—in a rainbow-covered Antarctica.

Even the bizarre, patchy picture was terrifying to me.

"I couldn't see the guide. The claw beast had sprung up between us, facing where Harness Light and I stood. Bears are faster than claw beasts, but this one had the advantage of the ambush. Its huge, stone-like pincers swooped down and sheared Harness Light in half before I'd really processed what was happening."

She halted her tale as a car rolled toward us, headlights beaming. I dropped my eyes until the sharp beams had washed over us and left us in dusky light again.

"I...hesitated. I should have started running, but...my friend was dying there on the ice. Because of that hesitation, I would have died, too, if the claw beast hadn't been distracted. I found out later that our guide—I wish I could remember his name!—had attacked the claw beast's tail, hoping to give us a chance to run. The claw beast's attack had stirred up enough snow that it was like a blizzard: The lack of visibility would help us escape. He didn't know it was already too late for Harness Light to run.

"The claw beast turned on the guide, and his second left leg kicked us, sending us flying. Harness Light's upper body landed beside me. His blood...melted the snow." She shuddered at the memory.

"My next action made no sense, because I had no body for Harness Light. We were midway between cities, much too far to run to either. It was probably cruel, too, to take him out with no painkillers. But I couldn't stand to let him die inside the broken half of his Bear host."

That was the Wanda I knew—doing whatever she could to save whomever she could. Even if it caused pain, she would do what was necessary to keep people she cared about alive.

"I used the back of my hand, the ice-cutting side." She held up her forearm, as though expecting she could show me. "It was too wide a blade—it caused a lot of damage. I could only hope that Harness Light was far gone enough that he wouldn't feel the extra pain.

"Using my soft inside fingers, I coaxed Harness Light from the Bear's brain." She fluttered her fingers, as if remembering the action.

Was this the secret? The one Doc had failed to discover? She'd said _coaxed,_ not _removed_ or _pulled._ Was _gentleness_ the answer? Was it that simple, that we savage humans had just not seen it?

She didn't seem to realize what she'd told me. Maybe she'd already decided it didn't matter anymore. "He was still alive. I barely paused to ascertain this. I shoved him into the egg pocket in the center of my body, between the two hottest hearts. This would keep him from dying of cold, but he would only last a few short minutes without a body, and where would I find a host body in this empty waste?

"I thought of trying to share my host, but I doubted I could stay conscious through the procedure to insert him into my own head. And then, having no healing medicine, I would die quickly. With all those hearts, Bears bled very fast.

"The claw beast roared, and I felt the ground shake as its huge paws thudded down. I didn't know where our guide was, or if he lived. I didn't known how long it would take the claw beast to find us half-buried in the snow. I was right beside the severed Bear—the bright blood would draw the monster' eyes.

"And then...I got this crazy idea." She let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't have a Bear host for Harness Light. I couldn't use my body. The guide was dead or had fled. But there was _one_ other body on the ice field."

_No,_ I thought. _Surely not._

"It was insanity, but all I could think of was Harness Light. We weren't even close friends, but I knew he was slowly dying, right between my hearts. I couldn't endure that."

Of course she couldn't. She was Wanda. Wanda the Bear, maybe, but still our altruistic soul. She couldn't stand to ignore suffering.

Like what she was doing now. What we were doing.

"I heard the angry claw beast roaring, and I ran toward the sound. Soon I could see its thick white fur. I ran straight to its third left leg and launched myself as high up the leg as I could. I was a good jumper. I used all six of my hands, the knife sides, to yank myself up the side of the beast. It roared and spun, but that didn't help. Picture a dog chasing its tail. Claw beasts have very small brains—a limited intelligence.

"I made it to the beast's back and ran up the double spine, digging in with my knives so that it couldn't shake me off.

"It took only seconds to get up to the beast's head, but that was where the greatest difficulty waited. My ice cutters were only...about as long as your forearm, maybe. The claw beast's hide was twice as thick. I swung my arm down as hard as I could, slashing through the first layer of fur and membrane. The claw beast screamed and reared back on its hind legs. I almost fell."

I couldn't say a word. I was riveted on the story. Wanda—the _same person_ from the story she was telling—was sitting here in this car with me. I felt awed, as though in the presence of a celebrity. How could this...daredevil hero creature be our Wanda?

"I lodged four of my hands into its hide—it screamed and thrashed. With the other two, I took turns cutting at the gash I'd made. The skin was so thick and tough, I didn't know if I would be able to saw through.

"The claw beast went berserk. It shook so hard that it was all I could do to hold on for a moment. But time was running out for Harness Light. I shoved my hands into the hole and tried to rip it open.

"Then the claw beast threw itself backward onto the ice.

"If we hadn't been over its lair—the pit it had dug to hide in—that would have crushed me. As it was, though it knocked me silly, the fall actually helped. My knives were already in the beast's neck. When I hit the ground, the weight of the beast drove my cutters deep through its skin. Deeper than I needed.

"We were both stunned; I was half smothered. I knew I had to do something right away, but I couldn't remember what it was. The beast started to roll, dazed. The fresh air cleared my head, and I remembered Harness Light.

"Protecting him from the cold as well as I could in the soft side of my hands, I moved him from my egg pocket into the claw beast's neck.

"The beast got to its feet and bucked again. This time I flew off; I'd let go of my hold to insert Harness Light, you see. The claw beast was infuriated. The wound on its head wasn't nearly enough to kill it, just annoy it."

Listening to this story, I marveled at myself, my arrogance. I'd always thought of Wanda as someone who needed to be taken care of. Protected. She was brave, but she wasn't a proactive fighter.

How could I have seen her as a weakling? I knew she was emotionally strong, but...I had never imagined her having that kind of...trauma in her past. How many souls would risk their lives for a casual acquaintance like that? How many would have fled?

I suddenly felt very insignificant to her. I wondered how Mel felt, being carried around with all those memories all the time, knowing all about Wanda's past planets and realizing how small our lives were compared to hers.

The epic tale wasn't finished yet. "The snow had settled enough that I was in plain sight, especially as I was painted with the beast's blood. It's a very bright color, a color you don't have here," she said very casually, destroying my color-spectrum paradigm.

"It raised its pincers, and they swung toward me. I thought that was it, and I was comforted a little that at least I would die trying.

"And then...the pincers hit the snow beside me. I couldn't believe it had missed! I stared up at the huge, hideous face, and I almost had to—well, not _laugh._ Bears don't laugh. But that was the feeling. Because that ugly face was torn with confusion and chagrin. No claw beast had ever worn such an expression before.

"It had taken Harness Light a few minutes to bind himself to the claw beast. It was such a big area; he really had to extend himself. But then he was in control. He was confused and slow—he didn't have much of a brain to work with, but it was enough that he knew I was his friend.

"I had to ride him to the crystal city, to hold the wound closed on his neck until we could reach a Healer. That caused quite a stir. For a while they called me Rides the Beast. I didn't like it. I made them go back to my other name."

My jaw had dropped somewhere in listening. The soul sitting next to me had been attacked by a mammoth alien creature, and not only survived, but tamed the thing by climbing its back and inserting someone in it. If that wasn't spectacular... Nothing in the universe was right if she wasn't regarded as a miracle.

How could I be kicking her out?

She turned and looked at me for the first time since beginning the story. She seemed surprised by my expression, my reaction.

"They've probably finished unloading, don't you think?" she said, looking back toward the docks. "Let's finish this and get back home."

I couldn't believe her. This incredible thing she'd done—surely not the _only_ heroic act—was so..._insignificant_ to her. She didn't want any recognition for it, was surprised that I found it amazing. Of course she would end the story with saying she didn't like the commemorative name they gave her. _She_ amazed me.

Was this how Ian...

I shook my head.

"Yes. Let's finish this, Wanderer, Lives in the Stars, Rides the Beast. Stealing a few unguarded crates won't present much of a challenge for _you,_ will it?"

We did the job together. Of course it was easy; the loading area was dark and deserted now. No hiding, no contriving was necessary.

Once the sedan was crammed full with boxes—ten in all—we drove back around and, at Wanda's suggestion, swiped a crate of medicine. Doc had used a lot of the Heal fixing up Brandt's shoulder wound.

I let Wanda have the wheel on the way back. I claimed I was tired, but I just wanted to think. To bask in the feeling that soon, I would have Mel back with me.

How happy she must have been when it had first occurred to Wanda that the two of them could be separated. How thankful, like I was.

Wouldn't everyone be amazed, when Melanie turned up one day with no soul reflecting through her eyes? They might be struck dumb, as when Wanda herself first entered the caves. The sight of an alien used to be so unexpected. Now it would be the other way around.

I imagined the hope in their eyes. Everyone had lost someone to the invasion. This was a way to get them back. Capture, insertion, wasn't the end. It wasn't the death we all feared. This would be so..._good_ for everyone.

Then I thought of Ian.

_Oh._

_He_ wouldn't be pleased with this turn of events. At all. In fact, if he knew, I realized with a jolt, he would do everything in his power to stop them. To stop Wanda from doing the right thing.

He was biased. He loved Wanda. Not like Jamie loved her, not the way I felt about her. He was _in_ love with her. He wanted to...to _keep_ her. For himself. Had Wanda not been in Mel, had I not protected them, he probably would have swept her up a long time ago.

It was painfully obvious.

And a problem.

I understood his feelings. Part of me shared them. Part of me was conflicted. My mind kept spinning in this set pattern, around the wheel of indecision and decisiveness. I was caught in a strange duality, between a rock and a hard place.

A little part of me wished Wanda could stay forever, in Mel if necessary. There was...something about her, something that made her innately good, and kept those around her good. I wanted that. I didn't want to hurt her.

But Mel.

Mel was a prisoner. Had been for a long time. I wasn't sure any of us could comprehend the limits of her existence—she was literally chained up inside her head, only able to observe and speak silently to one person, with great effort.

Wanda knew how wrong that was. She'd known for a long time. One of the first things she'd voluntarily said to me was apologizing for the pain that Melanie's imprisonment brought me. And at the first way out, Wanda was doing the right thing. Freeing Mel.

And, somewhat circularly, that choice that Wanda was making...it had an effect on me. More than gratitude. Something deeper. I somehow understood the magnitude of the sacrifice she was making, and her willingness to do it anyway deepened my feelings for her. My fascination. My care.

And then, I suddenly wondered if she would be...going. _Really_ going. Somewhere else, where she couldn't come back to us. And I was worried about that. Because I, all of a sudden, wouldn't want her to go.

Then I would think of Melanie. And Wanda would be forgotten.

There was no choice. No...competition. Wanda and Mel were so different, different from each other and different to me. It was a wonder how they shared the same body.

They meant different things to me. Both good. Both important. But if I only got to have one of them...

I remembered asking myself, after Wanda had saved me from the Seeker, which one of them was more important: Mel, who made me happy, or Wanda, who made us safe. It was astounding how quickly my priorities had shifted with the new facts.

If Wanda wanted out, I'd help her. I'd help keep her on track, help keep away Ian and anyone who wanted to stop her.

But I'd miss her.

As she drove, Wanda's lips pressed together in a tight line. Her jaw flexed, barely visible under her increasingly shaggy hair. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. When she didn't think I was looking, she bit her lip and blinked rapidly, her face contorting.

I ignored it.

We reached the desert well before morning. Wanda drove straight to the caves, pulling up again at the crawlspace. Since the crates would be hard to maneuver through the small tunnel, we tied them all together in a long line, securing the end of the rope to my waist. Wanda led the way on her hands and knees; I followed behind, dragging our spoils.

The clanking and scraping of the boxes worried me—weren't these things to be handled delicately? Yet when I voiced my concern, Wanda assured me that the care taken of the cryotanks was for the soul inside, not for the fragility of the tank.

"You're back," I heard Doc say to Wanda as she pulled herself through into the hospital. He laid a hand lightly on her elbow. She took a deep breath and, with great effort, smiled back.

"We brought you a gift," I said as a way of announcing myself. Landing on my feet in the hospital, I pulled out the box directly behind me—the crate of medicine.

"Heal!" Doc exclaimed, picking it up and weighing it in his arms. "How much did you get?"

"Two cases," I told him. "And we've found a much better way to renew our stores than to have Wanda stabbing herself." My mouth twitched into a smile.

Doc sobered suddenly. He did not look at me. Instead his gaze flickered toward Wanda. Their eyes locked for a quick moment. It appeared to be less a silent conversation than a reaffirmation of words already spoken. Probably triggered by something I'd said.

The moment ended. Doc sighed, his face wearied. "Did you get the cryotanks?"

I turned to look at Wanda. She was biting her lip, trying to keep her face arranged in a calm, offhand expression. "Yes. Ten of them. It was all the car could hold." Her words seemed stiff, choppy. Even though she was trying to act natural, I could tell she wasn't feeling good.

Doc was staring expectantly at the crawlspace behind me, though, eager to see and examine our good for himself. I gave the rope around my waist a tug, letting the cylindrical containers clatter out of the tunnel one by one. It was rather less dramatic than I'd imagined.

"Ten," Doc repeated the number, almost in surprise. He took one halting step forward, fixated on the cryotanks. "Are they...difficult to use?"

"No," she said. "Extremely easy. I'll show you how."

Perhaps I was over-analyzing. Perhaps I was paranoid. But the way Wanda had said that..._I'll show you how._ It almost seemed like a reassurance than just a statement of fact. As though Wanda wouldn't always be able to work the cryotanks herself. As though she wouldn't be around. And as though Doc knew it.

Had she already talked to Doc about this? Were those the silent words that had passed between them?

I think Wanda noticed my scrutiny. Her shoulders were tight, uncomfortable with the tension of the scene, everything unspoken. "What did Jeb, Aaron, and Brandt say?" she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Doc.

"They're in agreement with your terms."

Terms? So Wanda had made a deal with Doc, with terms and conditions. What had Mel's part of the deal been?

Wanda nodded hesitantly. "I won't show you unless I believe that."

Doc shrugged. "That's fair."

I was itching to ask all kinds of questions. "What did you tell him?" Doc asked Wanda, noticing my irritation with their vagueness.

"Just...that I was going to save the Seeker." Wanda turned to me, though not actually looking at me square. "Doc has promised me that if I show him how to perform the separation, you will give the released souls safe conduct to another life on another planet. No killing."

That made sense. Souls that we removed would have to go _somewhere._ Sending them to planets light-years away was pretty safe for us—they couldn't give us away centuries in the future. "I can agree to those terms. And I can make sure the others follow through." _In case you always can't,_ I added silently. I wouldn't be surprised if Brandt or Aaron or Kyle would one day decide that a removed soul wasn't worth the trouble and would just get rid of it.

But if Wanda was willing to give us the secret, I wanted to honor her wishes. Especially if she was fulfilling _my_ greatest wish. And I knew she was trusting us to _not_ be barbaric with her family.

"I assume you have a plan to get them off-planet?" I asked her.

"It will be no more dangerous than what we did tonight," she reassured me. "Just the opposite—adding to the stack rather than taking from it."

"Okay." She had it all worked out. _Perfect._

"Did you have a...time schedule in mind?" Doc sounded eager. Maybe he was expecting us to do it tonight. Judging from the preparations he'd done while we were gone—covering the holes in the ceiling to allow for bright lights, sterilizing his instruments and cots—he was hoping to get this started.

I wasn't going to argue. But I had to be responsible. "I have to take the Jeep back," I told them. "Can you wait? I'd...like to watch this."

Doc nodded consent. "Sure, Jared."

I climbed back into the crawlspace. "Won't take me long." I was going to be booking it.

My mind raced through the tunnel, back into the Jeep. I was enamored with what the future held for me—me and Mel. I didn't even take the Jeep back to its normal hiding place, I was in such a hurry. I drove it around to the main entrance, parking in the little crevice just belowground.

I made my way back through the steep tunnels, silencing my footsteps so the Seeker wouldn't hear.

She had to be wondering why they hadn't killed her yet. I hoped her guards hadn't given anything away to her, what we were planning. In fact, they probably needed to start getting her ready for the operation.

When I reached the fork in the tunnel, I could see Jeb standing with Brandt and Aaron. All three seemed incredibly tense.

"Jeb," I said in a muted tone. He turned to face me, rifle held ready in his arms.

"Where'd you go, kid? You and Wanda go out together?"

"Yeah, we did. We got..." I cast a wary glance at the Seeker behind us. She wasn't pacing at the moment; instead she was huddled on her mattress, perhaps trying to sleep. "We got the stuff Doc told you about."

Brandt and Aaron both turned to me, curiosity burning in their eyes. Doc had no doubt told them, too, about Wanda's deal. Knowing them, they had to be both skeptical and excited.

"Is it really gonna work?" Brandt asked, hardly daring to let himself hope.

"Hope so," I said quietly, watching the Seeker carefully. She could be listening. She could be attacking her human's brain right now, hearing what we planned to do. "Wanda says she knows how. I trust her."

"I've got chloroform." Aaron produced the can from his pocket. "Shall we?"

I took the bottle, shaking it out onto the rag Jeb proffered. "Yeah, they're ready for us."

It turned out the Seeker actually _was_ asleep, so knocking her out was fairly easy. She barely stirred, simply breathed in the chloroform and began snoring more loudly.

I picked her up—she was so _tiny!_ She couldn't have been much older than Mel, from her face and from her size. But the soul inside her made her infinitely more dangerous than Mel or Wanda could ever be. So I cautioned Brandt and Jeb to keep their guns at the ready as I began making my way into the blackness of the tunnel.

Déjà vu swept over me—this was the reverse of the day Wanda had first come here. I remembered carrying her through this same tunnel, loathing the touch of her skin. I'd lugged her gingerly to the storage area and dumped her in a hole in the wall.

I wished I'd been kinder.

Remembering the modifications they'd made to accommodate the Seeker, I quickly readjusted the soul in my arms, cradling her more gently. I couldn't take back what I'd done to Wanda and Melanie, but I could at least try to make up for it.

Especially if Wanda wasn't going to be around much longer.

The caves were empty and silent as I carried the Seeker through them; it _was_ after midnight. However, as we passed through the main plaza, I spotted a tiny flicker of movement in the passage that led to the dining hall.

"Hello?" I whispered to the darkness. "Someone there?"

The figure, shrouded in gloom, hesitated and stepped out slowly. It was Lily.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, trying to contain my relief and happiness in a hushed murmur. Seeing her out and vertical was very encouraging. If she could make it through a loss like she had, so could Ian, I told myself. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes were still puffy and glassy. When she spoke, it was a thin, broken whisper. "I'm...better."

"Little past dining hours, kiddo," Jeb teased her gently.

"I just didn't want to...want to..." Lily trailed off as she registered what—whom—I was holding. "What are you..." She eyed the unconscious woman with distaste and fear.

"We're going to, uh, play operation," I said lightly, exchanging looks with Jeb, unsure of what exactly to tell her.

She nodded dully. "Don't...don't kill her. Please. No more killing."

"This ain't like the other times," Jeb reassured her. "Wanda's helping us."

Yes, how different it was. I was a little surprised at Lily's request for mercy. She was human, not a soul. I remembered how I'd wanted vengeance on the soul who had killed _my_ love.

Maybe Wanda just had that effect on people. She made everyone better.

Lily managed a shaky smile. "Should I wish you good luck?"

"That's the right idea," Jeb said. "You get better, okay?" He nudged her back toward the kitchens. "Don't be afraid to stuff your face, now." He patted her shoulder, actually eliciting a quiet laugh from her defeated figure.

I felt bad now that I hadn't gone to see Lily. No one had—except Ian, days after Wes's death. In her time of raw grief and loss, she'd been all alone.

No one deserved to be alone in the face of devastation. Jamie and I had mourned Mel together. I'd been there to comfort him when he'd woken up crying, and while I hadn't ever told him about my nightmares, seeing him safe when I opened my eyes had softened the pain.

Was I really so selfish? So callous that I didn't want to help others in their suffering and heartache? And was I really planning on doing something that would send Ian down that same path of despondency?

At least Lily was getting better. And we were, in our own way, avenging Wes.

And...I'd deal with Ian when the time came.

We made our way into the blackness of the south tunnel, meeting Doc at the dark mouth. Brandt and Aaron kept close behind me in case the prone Seeker in my arms attacked us while we couldn't see. They spoke in quiet voices.

"Is there a secret or something?"

"Maybe only one of them can do it."

"You think we're gonna...take _her_ out?"

My ears perked up at that last question of Brandt's.

Jeb spoke up, his tone almost reprimanding. "Not unless she wants us to." I couldn't see his face in the passage, but I wished I could. Had he worked through Wanda's plan like I had? Had he come to the same conclusion?

Would he support her decision?

I wasn't sure. On one hand, Jeb had always wanted Wanda to make her own choices about her role here. On the other hand, he'd grown close to her. He'd always _been_ close to her. He'd been her first supporter, the first to guess her secret. Would he let his surrogate niece run off across the universe?

I really wanted to ask him. But, since we'd arrived at the hospital, it would have to wait.

Wanda was perched on one of Doc's cots, swinging her legs back and forth absently, staring at nothing. Maybe talking to Mel. She focused on us when we walked in, her eyes fixating on the woman in my arms, dread marring the determination there.

Was she still scared of the Seeker herself? Or was she scared to perform the operation? Scared to show us—show us how to kill her? Did she think we would do that?

What exactly was she dreading?

Doc directed me to one of the cots, where I laid the Seeker. I tried to be careful, like I was carrying a baby, or Jamie, instead of a murderous alien.

Wanda tilted her head, studying the Seeker's vacant face—peaceful now, in slumber. "Doc, where's the No Pain?"

"I'll get it for you." He hurried over to his desk and returned quickly, pressing the canister into her palm.

She removed one square and placed it on the woman's tongue. "Jared, could you please roll her onto her stomach?"

As I did so, the propane lanterns Doc had filled lit up, illuminating the cave with a whitish-yellow light that our ever-dilated eyes weren't used to. I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the black-blue spots trailing on my eyelids.

Wanda took another deep breath. "Doc, I need Heal, Clean, Seal, and Smooth." Her voice wavered minutely.

Doc was already at her elbow, the medicines collected. "Right here."

They positioned themselves over the Seeker, one on either side of her cot. They murmured to each other, preparing to begin the procedure.

Brandt and Aaron moved in front of me, their necks craning to see what they were about to do. Taller than either of them, I stood on my tiptoes to observe that Wanda had refused to take the scalpel and was holding the woman's hair instead.

His head reaching only to my shoulder, Jeb scowled as he strained to get a better view behind the two big men. I smirked.

"How much room do you need?" Doc asked, his hand hovering hesitantly above the soul's exposed neck.

"Just the length of the scar. That'll be enough."

"You sure?"

"Yes...oh wait!" She made a move to let go of the Seeker, but she had rooted herself stiff, unable to even relinquish her fingers' grip. "Jared, could you get one of those tanks for me?"

"Of course." I hurried over to Doc's desk, where we'd dumped our spoils from the hospital. They seemed so light for something so important. I picked one off the top of the pile and brought it back to the circle of light. "What now?"

"There's a circle on top of the lid. Press it in."

As I pushed the button, the cylindrical tank vibrated slightly, turning itself on. After a second, the vibrations slowed, leaving only a faint hum behind. Brandt and Aaron, eyes wide, both edged away from the foreign mechanism. Jeb leaned in, excitement and curiosity evident on his leathery face.

"Okay," Wanda said. She wasn't watching me, her gaze still locked on the Seeker. "On the side, there should be a switch...more like a dial, actually. Can you see it?"

I ran my fingers over the smooth metal, finally finding the small indented circle near the bottom. "Yes."

"Spin it all the way down," she directed me.

My finger nudged the metal strip one-eighty degrees. "Okay." I felt like I was in a sci-fi movie, not for the first time since the invasion.

Never before in the movies, though, had the humans been reduced to living in caves, taking aliens out one butchered host brain at a time. Never in the movies had humans had an alien ally, either. Never had an alien been so kind, so gentle, so...amazing as the one giving me directions now.

"What color is the light on top of the tank?"

I searched for a light, finally finding the panel of shifting colors in the place where the hinge of the lid would be. "It's just turning from purple to bright blue. Light blue now." I wondered if, on other planets, the panel ever showed colors not in our spectrum. If it were possible for us to see those colors.

"Great," Wanda said. "Pop the lid and wait for me."

"How?"

"Latch under the lip," she answered, still not looking up, using her memory as a guide to instructing me.

I flipped the lock up, and the lid rose slowly on its own with a quiet hiss. "Got it."

The inside looked like it was full of dry ice, or vaporized nitrogen. Fearing for the safety of my hand, I quickly snatched my arm away from the opening, but not before catching the blast of icy air. "It's _cold!_"

"That's sort of the point," Wanda said. I heard the smile in her voice.

"How does it work?" I asked, not spotting any mechanism that would maintain such a temperature. "What's the power source?"

She exhaled sharply, almost frustratedly. "I knew the answers when I was a Spider. I don't understand it now." Then, turning her attention away from me, "Doc, you can go ahead. I'm ready."

My arms full with the cryotank, I peered around Brandt and Aaron, both standing awkwardly at Wanda's shoulder, to watch the operation.

Doc cut through the woman's skin at Wanda's instruction. Then Doc took Wanda's place holding her hair, and Wanda inserted her finger in the bloody cut.

I couldn't tell what she was doing. Doc couldn't either; his brow knitted as he tried to understand the intricate magic Wanda's finger was working.

Obviously it _was_ magic—within seconds, Wanda withdrew her hand. In it she cradled the soul—the whole, unmangled silver ribbon. The attachments had drawn back up inside the body, and it rippled gently in Wanda's palm, though there was no draft.

As I watched, the residing drops of blood spilled off the soul's body as though its skin were waterproof—blood-proof, rather.

I'd never seen a living soul outside a body. It was...breathtaking.

So this was what Wanda looked like. A delicate, downy strip of silver...something. I had no idea what those things were made of. Certainly no element from this planet. And they weren't disgusting, either. I couldn't imagine how we'd called them _insects_ before. Parasitic or not, they were beautiful.

Wanda—in her truest form—was beautiful.

It was fitting.

She held the soul tenderly, protectively. "Sleep well, little one," she whispered to it.

I could hardly believe that the dainty, flowing piece of matter Wanda held with such care could be the being that had murdered Wes—that had wanted to murder us all. Humanity must have affected this soul in the worst possible way.

Wanda turned to me, still clutching the humming cryotank. I held it out to her, keeping the tube level and the opening steady.

With no fear of her skin freezing, Wanda moved her hand into the polar air gushing from the hole, letting the soul glide inside. She withdrew her hand—it was fine, no visible frostbite—and eased the lid closed. The light on the hinge melded smoothly into red, like an _Occupied_ lock on a lavatory.

Giving me a small smile of thanks, she took the tank from my hands, turning it carefully until she could clutch it to her chest.

Doc, I saw, had healed the former Seeker's neck and was putting the scar powder on. He looked up with satisfaction, his eyes practically glowing when he saw Wanda had the soul safe inside the hibernation vessel. "Amazing," he breathed. "Incredible."

It really was. It was done. Just like that, Wanda had done the impossible and freed a human from its alien possessor.

No, Wanda would never stop surprising me.

"When do you think she'll wake up?" Doc inquired, eyeing the now-human woman with anticipation.

"That depends on how much chloroform she inhaled," Wanda murmured.

"Not much," I supplied.

"And if she's still there," Wanda said, a note of apprehension in her voice. "We'll have to wait and see."

I suddenly realized that the woman—whoever she was—wouldn't like waking up with her face mashed into a bloody towel. I picked her back up, moving her to another cot on her back.

Doc followed me, taking the woman's wrist, feeling for a pulse. He counted silently, nodded to himself, then shone a flashlight in her eye. Her dark eye stared vacantly back, pupil shrinking to a pinpoint in the bright beam.

There was no reflection. No ring of silver, like there had been before.

Doc and I stared at each other for a minute, unable to express our wonder.

"She really did it," I muttered roughly.

It was possible. It was within reach. My dream was going to come true.

"Pretty slick, kid," Jeb muttered to Wanda.

Brandt and Aaron, with all their misgivings and doubt, had finally realized that Wanda had actually done what she'd promised, and were now discussing the new possibilities with rising fervor. Their awe rendered them inarticulate, as they spoke to each other in stuttering fragments.

"We should go get some—"

"Right now, I'm ready—"

"Hold on," Jeb stopped them, stern authority tightening his usual drawl. "No soul snatching until that cryotank is safely on its way to outer space." He turned to Wanda, who had both arms wrapped around the tank. "Right, Wanda?"

"Right," she agreed strongly, watching the two men apprehensively, as though she was afraid they'd run at her and snatch the Seeker from her.

I'd protect her. And the soul—even if she'd killed Wes. If Wanda was willing to keep the little thing safe, I'd help her. Whatever it took to get Mel back.

"Wanda!" Doc whispered sharply. He hovered over the Seeker's host, unsure what to do. She was...moving.

Her small hands flexed instinctively, forming tense fists and uncurling just as quickly. Small, raspy noises came from her throat.

Wanda, her arms still full with the cryotank, nudged Doc with her elbow. "Talk to her."

"Um..." Doc sounded awkward. "Hello? Can you hear me...uh, miss? You're safe now, do you understand me?"

She grunted again. Then her eyes opened.

_Whoa._

We had another human.

Her eyes circled the room, her brows tightening in concentration. "Well, it feels good to have my head back," she said, focusing on Doc. "Thanks."

"What is your name?" Jeb asked her, his eyes crinkling as he grinned.

"I'm Lacey," she announced, sitting up with Doc's help. Her voice was still loud, still nasally. She proclaimed her name as though she expected to be met with applause.

"This place _reeks._ Is there any air freshener in the house?"

She sounded just like the other one.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you can, leave a review below letting me know how much you liked or disliked it!<strong>

**I'll try to have the next chapter posted within the next...year. Lol**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


	20. Duplicity

**Hello again! It's been awhile.**

**Hope you enjoy Chapter Twenty!**

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><p>"Are you <em>sure<em> you took the soul out?"

Wanda gave me with a look of aspersion. "I'm sure. This is the human who was inside her."

_Then why is she so annoying?_

I was already in favor of putting the soul back in—the awareness that had awoken just five minutes ago was just as rude, just as loudmouthed, just as full of it. How was I supposed to believe she was a_ human?_ She wouldn't shut up.

Lacey, as she said her name was, walked slowly around the infirmary, marveling in the simple joy of moving her own body. "Free. I'm free. I'm _me._ Take that, you _thing,_" she spat toward the tank, in Wanda's arms.

As though the Seeker could be hurt by her words, Wanda turned, shielding the cryotank from Lacey.

"Why didn't you just, I don't know, slice her up? What's the point of keeping her alive?"

"We'll send her away," Doc explained patiently. "Far away, to a planet she can't give us away from."

"It'd be a lot easier to...oh, well. Never mind. Since you've got _her_ working for you, it's pointless to talk about killing." She threw the word out with delightful malice, enjoying Wanda's answering flinch.

I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It seemed we weren't any safer with the soul removed from the body, in this case.

Lacey stared up at the ceiling, decorated with tarps. "So, now that I'm me, can you actually show me where I am? This whole 'dungeon' routine is getting old. I don't like being underground."

"You could see all of that, before?" Jeb asked.

"Oh, yes. I saw everything she saw, heard everything she heard. I couldn't talk, though, except to her."

Like Melanie. My ears perked up.

"She hated me. And you, all of you. When she shot you—" Lacey turned to Brandt—"she couldn't understand why you didn't die. She had never shot anyone before, can you believe that? It was kind of hilarious. I had to explain to her that you had to _aim._ So she shot the other one in the head."

Upon hearing her poke fun at Wes's death, I felt the hatred bubble in my stomach again—this time toward a human, not the soul. This human was equally remorseless.

"It was funny and awful at the same time, you know? I didn't think she could actually _do_ it."

Brandt and Aaron exchanged angry glances. I shot them a glare, warning them to keep calm. Lacey _was_ human, after all, and we couldn't hurt her without consequences.

"You'll have to forgive me for going on and on. I've been shouting away in there for years and never getting to speak for myself. I've got a lot to say all stored up."

If it had been inane, harmless chatter, I wouldn't have minded. I'd started to imagine that Mel, when we freed her, would have a thousand things to tell me, starting from the very beginning. I'd listen to every word she said.

"I am starving. Is there food in this dump? Other than what you fed _her?_"

"It oughtta be about time for breakfast by now," Jeb surmised, warily eyeing his newest guest. "Shall we?"

Doc, who had finished cleaning his instruments, nodded consent. He and Jeb started for the dark tunnel. Brandt and Aaron followed, still shooting murderous looks toward Lacey.

Wanda hadn't put the soul down at all. She moved to follow the group, still hugging the tank to her chest.

"You can leave her in here," I murmured to her. "She'll be safe."

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not taking any chances." I knew she wasn't just thinking of Lacey, but Aaron, Brandt, Kyle, anyone who might want to avenge Wes by getting even. The hospital would be the first place they'd look.

So I shrugged. "Okay. Take her with you."

Lacey watched us curiously. "Got him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

I willed myself to not make a biting remark back.

Wanda answered instead. "Jared loves Melanie. Not me."

I wanted to protest, to correct her, but I didn't quite know what I'd say. Didn't know how to explain our relationship.

Didn't know how to say I cared about her when I was planning to pull her out.

"Oh, _Melanie,_" Lacey grumbled. "Your alter ego. That's why we don't like you," she said plainly, unashamedly. "When she realized that you were hearing Melanie just the way she was hearing me, it made her frightened. She thought you might...guess. I was her deep, dark secret." She barked out a laugh as we moved into the tunnel, the darkness swallowing our faces.

"She couldn't make me shut up. That's why she became a Seeker. Because she was hoping to figure out some way to better deal with resistant hosts. And then she requested being assigned to you—so she could watch how you did it."

A scuffling interrupted her lengthy discourse, followed by an unintelligible mumble. I bit back a laugh, realizing she'd tripped in the dark.

She was back to talking, though, within a minute. "She was jealous of you. Isn't that pathetic? She wanted to be strong like you. It gave us a real kick when we thought Melanie had won. I guess that didn't happen, though. I guess _you_ did."

_That's right,_ I thought, smirking at her in the blackness. Wanda had won. And she was still here, helping us. She was even going to give her body—Mel's body—back, the one thing I wanted more than anything.

"So why _did_ you come here?" she asked Wanda. "Why are you helping the rebels?"

It intrigued me that she still referred to us as _rebels,_ even though she was on _our_ side, the human side, now.

Wanda seemed loath to answer. "Mel helped me...understand humans. She showed me her family, and we came to find them together. We're...friends."

"Why?"

"She's a good person," Wanda said patiently.

"But why does she like _you?_"

"She says, for the same reason." Wanda's voice seemed to glow with admiration for Mel.

"Got her brainwashed, huh?" Lacey scoffed.

"Hey," I said, a little loudly. "That's not necessary."

She sighed, the sound echoing. "Fine. You're _all_ brainwashed."

I was saved from responding, literally, by the light at the end of the tunnel, signifying our arrival in the main plaza. Those headed to breakfast stopped to gawk at our strange party: Jeb, Brandt, and Aaron armed, Wanda carrying a mysterious silver can, and a small woman they'd never seen before—or whom they'd seen imprisoned for murder.

While Wanda and I headed to breakfast, the other humans moved in, crowding around Jeb and Lacey. Aaron and Brandt stayed, waving their friends over, telling the remarkable story to eager ears. I saw Kyle staring at Lacey, his shock and disbelief candid. He seemed incapable of movement.

The dining hall was nearly empty—Violetta was heating scrambled eggs we'd obtained on our last raid; a few early risers were already eating.

Ian was one of them.

Wanda balked when she saw him. Her steps slowed to a halt, her arms reflexively tightening around the Seeker's cryotank. Then she took a deep breath and kept walking, heading not for him, but for the food counter.

_Had_ she been avoiding him since she'd realized she could leave Mel's body? Did she not want him to deduce what I had?

Violetta filled two bowls with eggs and pushed them toward us with a tired, half-hearted smile. Wanda, for a moment, seemed unsure how to carry her bowl and keep holding the Seeker. I reached out and grabbed both bowls. "Let me."

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Where do you want to sit?"

She cast a nervous glance around. Ian, thanks to our spoken exchange, had noticed our presence and was grinning at Wanda in anticipation. She gulped. "I guess we'll...go over there."

I reluctantly followed her, half a mind to sit somewhere else on my own, but Wanda seemed reassured by my presence. She sat across from Ian rather than next to him, allowing space for the two of us to sit side by side.

"Hey," he said, his smile warm and relieved. "I was worried about you. Where'd you go? Jared," he added, tagging on a terse, short greeting. I nodded in response.

"On a raid," Wanda said, staring intently at her bowl of eggs. "To get...these." She held up the humming metal can.

"Yeah, what _is_ that?"

"A cryotank, for souls," I answered for Wanda. "We've got the Seeker in there now."

"Wait—_what?_" he demanded, his eyes widening. "You mean...you saved her host?"

"Yes," Wanda said faintly. Her face was acquiring a sickly gray tinge. "She's taking a tour with Jeb right now."

_"Wow,"_ Ian breathed. He didn't seem confused or alarmed by the news. "That's amazing."

Before we'd finished eating, Wanda had explained the basics of our night's activities, and no sudden realization seemed to dawn on Ian. He was only astounded by what Wanda had done. His ignorance relaxed her, and she began eating her eggs ravenously, looking Ian in the eye again.

Apparently he didn't _think_ as much as me now. Wanda was muddling his thought processes.

Jeb, on his tour, brought Lacey to the dining area first. At least ten other humans were gathered around them, following the new arrival, whispering to each other, watching her with astonishment and reverence.

She appeared to be enjoying to attention; however, her expression conveyed distaste and irritation. I distinctly heard her blurt, "It's so _dirty_ here."

"You'd think she'd be happier," Jamie remarked, folding himself into the bench next to Ian. His eyes were on Lacey, whom he must've heard about already. Then his gaze drifted to Wanda, eating one-handed, her other arm guarding the cryotank. "Is that...the...the soul?"

"Mm-hmm," Wanda said, her mouth full.

"How'd you get her out?" Jamie demanded, leaning forward. The mischievous glint of curiosity in his eye reminded me of Jeb.

Wanda shrugged. "I simply...coaxed her out. You just have to know what to do."

"I wish I could've seen it," Jamie said wistfully. "You'll be doing more, right? I wanna help."

Wanda's voice grew harder. "No. There was blood."

"I've seen _blood_ before. Melanie knows. Mel, what do you think?"

I rose with a sigh. Sometimes Wanda and Mel were too protective of Jamie. This argument would no doubt go on for a while.

Now that Wanda had removed one soul, proving that the human conscience could return, she had to show Doc how to do it himself. Obviously he couldn't use _her_ as a subject, so that meant we'd have to kidnap more people outside.

How long would we have to wait? Did I want more or less time before Wanda...

Lacey's shrill complaints rang loudly in the tunnels after me. "I don't understand. I have to _work?_ I don't think _you_ understand. This is a terrible system, Mr. Jebediah."

She sounded like Maggie. Maybe the two of them would get along.

Ever since I'd taken Wanda out that first night, to get medicine for Jamie, Maggie and Sharon had withdrawn from life here in the caves. They only spoke to one another, ignoring everyone else who'd ever spoken to or showed support for Wanda. Sharon had even moved out of Doc's room, back into her mother's.

I wondered what Melanie would have to say to them. When she came back.

Lacey was not pleased with anything. Upon concluding her tour with the bathing room, she asked if there was someplace she could rest for the remainder of the day; her feet were hurting. Jeb, through gritted teeth, later confided in me he had half a mind to send her back to the storage area—her cell.

I avoided the former Seeker as much as I could, although she seemed to be slowly accepting our way of living. She did, even by the end of the day, consent to join us for a meal.

Wanda, on the other hand, appeared to be slowly growing sadder the more she watched Lacey. She cradled the soul constantly with a maternal air, stroking the lid almost nostalgically.

I watched all this from afar, as Ian had reclaimed his place by her side. He was keen on lifting her spirits; however, he was hindered by his oblivion to the source of her melancholy.

Of course, _I_ couldn't make her feel better. If she was morose about freeing Mel...I was unable to sympathize. But I hated seeing her like that.

Half of me willed her to be frank, coming clean about her plans so everyone—specifically Ian—would be prepared. The other half of me wished she would forget the whole thing.

Jeb and I spent the time planning our next raid, the one where we would return Lacey's previous tenant to her kind. On this raid, we would travel to what used to be the airport. Now it was a shuttle field.

Jeb wanted to come on this mission, to see the advanced, highly compact rocket ships he'd only glimpsed from afar. It had also been his idea to select our next kidnap victims from a certain pool—Healers. If Lacey was any example, more hosts remained aware than what we knew. Perhaps, if we could return a Healer's body to its rightful owner, the human inside could remember some useful knowledge of soul medicine.

The plans were all going very smoothly—it wasn't until I went to check supplies in the Jeep that we discovered the kink.

When I reached the crevice where it had been hastily parked...there was nothing.

The Jeep was gone.

...

It didn't take us long to piece together the mystery.

I'd run straight back to Jeb with the news of our missing vehicle. The list of possible suspects was fairly short—Lacey's presence had quickly been verified. Wanda was still here, and Sharon and Maggie.

Ian, not finding his brother anywhere, had only needed a few seconds to figure out the reason. "He's gone after Jodi. What else?"

Jodi. Kyle's Melanie. The love of his life, taken by aliens.

Of course he wanted her back. As much as I wanted Mel. I might have understood why he'd done it, but Jodi wasn't as...accessible as Melanie was. She lived halfway across the country. And Kyle wasn't the most careful person on raids; he'd proven his recklessness time and time again. How would he manage a kidnapping without getting caught, or at least getting tailed?

All I felt toward him now was anger. Fury. We could all be dead soon, because of his selfishness.

But since our mission now was to save captured humans, Jeb encouraged us to go ahead with the raid despite the danger. He, however, decided to stay behind in case of an emergency in his house. Wanda and I would go again, and this time, Ian was coming with us.

No one was angrier at Kyle than the person who'd had to put up with him the longest. "I should have killed him years ago. No, our mother should have drowned him at birth!"

"He's your brother," Wanda reminded him gently. The three of us were preparing for our trip, packing food and clothes.

"I don't know why you keep saying that. Are you _trying_ to make me feel worse?"

"No, maybe _you_ should have seen this coming," I shot back at him.

"I had zero time! What was I supposed to—!"

"Please," Wanda begged us. "Don't. It's no one's fault. No one here, at least."

We shut up.

Since we'd hopefully be bringing back bodies, we took the big white van on this raid, the one in which Wanda and I had nearly met our deaths. Back before any of these new things had transpired. Before I'd felt so strongly about Wanda, Wanda's decisions.

Ian took the wheel, heading toward Phoenix again. Wanda sat up front next to him, their hands almost touching.

I reclined in the back, resting my head on an old sack of rice.

A few of the people in the caves, upon seeing Lacey human, had demanded that Jeb still execute the Seeker. Wanda had been right to keep the soul with her—she'd even slept with it.

Jeb, though, had argued that we only would have killed the Seeker to protect ourselves. Now that the fragile, defenseless soul posed no threat, the right thing was to let her go.

They'd agreed. Kyle's absence had probably helped Jeb's cause; he was certainly the most motivated, the most prejudiced.

Our victory still hadn't cheered Wanda up.

Even now, as we went to complete the Seeker's release, Wanda was miserable. Just her posture, rigid, determinedly upright, suggested distress. Like she wanted to collapse under the stress, but was hiding the worst of her pain—like a martyr. I knew what pain looked like in that body, although even Mel had rarely revealed her softest, most unguarded layer of hurt to me.

_"I was so little. It happened so fast, I didn't even have time to grieve. I just _knew,_ and we had to run."_

_We're back in the cabin, after a highly successful raid. Jamie's presence doesn't hinder us in the slightest, and it's nice to have Melanie to drive the getaway car._

_Every day, we learn more about each other, about our pasts, about our losses. I told her about my father. Now she's telling me about hers._

_"He was calling for us. I knew _he_ would never do that, not since he told us to never make a sound. Jamie wanted to run to him, because it was _Dad, _but it wasn't. I just knew it wasn't."_

_Her head is resting in my lap, so it takes me a few seconds to feel the tears._

_"I had to carry Jamie away. Running, always running. I think I ran all night. All the time, Jamie was crying out for Dad. He didn't understand why we left him. He didn't _understand,_ and I—I had to _tell_ him. I had to tell him that Dad was dead, that he was never coming back."_

_I was older, much older, when my dad died. And alone. I can't imagine what she's describing. Losing loved ones as a child has to be so raw, so confusing. My hand moves to stroke her hair. It seems inadequate comfort._

_"He cried for so many nights. He kept asking, can Dad come back to tell me bedtime stories? And every night I told him no, he cried himself to sleep. And I had to stay up and keep watch. I couldn't cry. I couldn't process any of it. I just had to stay strong for him. I think...I think this, now, is the most grief I've ever—ever—" She gulps, wiping away some more tears._

_Gently, I roll her so she's looking up at my face. "You don't have to be strong anymore. Okay? Your dad is gone...but I'm here. I've got you."_

_Her lips quiver into a watery smile. "You're not my dad."_

_"I better not be."_

_She pulls my head down to kiss me._

It was so easy to cheer Mel up. Even in her weakest moments, she didn't _want_ to be heartsick.

Wanda, though...Wanda was a masochist. She suffered through every agonizing moment as dutifully as a soldier following orders. I didn't know how to tell her...that it was okay? That I was _grateful_ for her sacrifice? That I'd miss her? Those words would not make her feel better.

It wasn't like she _had_ to be leaving forever, was it? She was a soul. She could have any body—she wasn't exclusively leased to Melanie.

Couldn't we bring her back? In a body we would salvage? Or would she _want_ that? Maybe she really did wish to leave us. Maybe she was just worried about Ian, about Jamie.

All this was so hard. Much more convoluted and intricate than it should have been.

Wanda's quiet voice interrupted my inner dialogue. She was directing Ian into the shuttle field, visible from the highway. Ian pulled over briefly, letting Wanda take the wheel. He climbed in the back with me, safe from any bright lights.

Wanda drove slowly, avoiding busy parts of the airport. From my limited view out the front windshield, I saw at least three shuttles rocket past.

"Everything's labeled," Wanda commented, twisting back to us. "Now, this is important: Avoid ships to the Bats, and especially the See Weeds. The See Weeds are just one system over; it only takes a decade to make the round trip. That's much too short. The Flowers are the farthest, and the Dolphins, Bears, and Spiders all take at least a century to go one way. Only send tanks to those."

I nodded to myself, filing the information away, although I couldn't help imagining with some amusement, years into the future, an influx of hysterical souls on the flower planet, all raving about humans and kidnappings and danger while being inserted into dandelions.

Wanda craned her neck, squinting at something outside her window. "This will be easy. They've got all kinds of delivery vehicles out here...and we blend in. Oh, I can see a tank truck—it's just like the one we saw them unloading at the hospital, Jared. There's a man looking over the stacks. He's putting them onto a hover cart. He's going to load them...yes, onto this ship. Right into the open hatch. I'll circle back and make my move when he's in the ship."

Keeping watch in the rear view mirror, Wanda parked the van just off the path, waiting until the coast was clear. When it apparently was, she reached back and took the tank gently from Ian. With a deep breath, she slid out of the van, back on missions.

It took less than a minute. Peeking out the back windows, Ian and I watched her stroll casually but confidently over to a pile of tanks, all with glowing red lights, and add hers to the stack.

Her walk back was more controlled, like she wanted to run but was controlling the urge.

Again, fearless.

"Doesn't look too hard," Ian remarked as she clambered back into the van, steering us slowly away.

"It was very good luck with the timing. You might have to wait longer for an opportunity next time."

Ian situated himself back beside her and took her hand. "You're the good luck charm. Do you feel better that she's safe?"

Wanda's reply was low, muttered, yet the flat, careful tone was unmistakeable. "Yes...?"

Ian studied her face, confused at the lie.

She ignored his scrutiny. "Let's go catch some Healers."

All this duplicity, Wanda's charade to keep Ian in the dark...I hated it. I wanted the pretense to end.

Our second mission of the night, catching Healers, would involve luring some souls out from a Healing facility. I had chloroform and zip-ties ready in the back of the van.

Ian had been right before: Wanda was not only amazing on raids, she made everything that might go wrong go right—easily. She parked directly next to a pair of Healers approaching their own car. Then she only needed seconds to lay the trap.

They never saw it coming. Before Wanda had the courage to turn around, we had two hostages, two souls that would hopefully be humans soon.

Wanda's silvery eyes, so helpful to us, were spilling over with tears. She couldn't bring herself to look at the two bodies I was now guarding in the back.

Who were they? Before they were taken over, did they have families? Loved ones who'd escaped, who still thought about them? Who could get them back?

The concept of captured, no longer synonymous with dead, opened up so many possibilities.

Now I wished my family, my dad and my brothers, had been overtaken instead of killed. I still had no one—except Mel and Jamie.

I supposed my mother was out there somewhere—living a soul life, unaware of the dormant human conscience inside. Once I had Melanie back, I wondered if we could find her. How many people we could give back to the humans in the caves, who thought they'd lost everything.

Ian was driving us back home, but we hadn't even left the town before Wanda spoke up again. "Ian, could you do me a favor?"

He was holding her hand. "Anything you want."

She seemed embarrassed. "I...want fast food." Her smile was sheepish.

Ian laughed, a surprised sound. "No problem."

I saw, from my position in the back, the approaching golden arches. Although chain restaurants didn't technically exist anymore as corporations, the same facades of places sold the same type of unhealthy food.

I hadn't had a cheeseburger in ages. My stomach growled without warning.

Wanda took the driver's seat again to order at the drive-thru. "What do you want?" she asked Ian.

"Nothing," he replied, a wide grin on his face. "I'm just getting a kick out of watching you do something for yourself. This _has_ to be a first."

Perhaps he thought this meant she was feeling better. But, judging from her still-teary eyes, her tiny, forced smile, and her deep, steadying breaths, she was still mentally writhing under the weight of her choices.

She turned around to me. "Jared, what about you?"

I didn't care; I just wanted food. "Two of whatever you're having."

She ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and strawberry shakes. I ate mine slowly, savoring the taste of cheap, greasy food. In the front, Ian and Wanda were enjoying themselves, dipping fries into Wanda's shake and laughing about the taste. I only clearly heard Wanda say, "Melanie thinks it's gross, too."

I couldn't wait to spend my time with Melanie.

Making our way home, we sighted no Seekers, no surveillance, no searching. Lacey's—the Seeker's—disappearance must have been written off as accidental, too. We were still safe here.

Back at home, we brought the souls in through the big entrance. Everyone was watching; we had no need to hide the captives now, since we were going to _save_ them. Jeb kept the curious ones back from the south tunnel, then followed us to Doc's hospital.

The preparation seemed to take no time at all. I showed Ian how to activate the cryotanks, giving him one to hold and keeping one for myself.

Before she began the procedure, Wanda inhaled deeply. "Do you swear, Doc? All of my terms? Do you promise me on your own life?"

"I do. I will meet all of your terms, Wanda. I swear it."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with some emotion I couldn't place. "Jared?"

"Yes," I said sincerely. "Absolutely no killing, ever." That didn't seem too hard to promise. I wondered if there were terms that I didn't know about, that _would_ be hard to honor.

Wanda validated the agreement of every man in the room before permitting Doc to begin. They worked on the woman first. Doc, his finger in the small, bloody opening, was being instructed softly by Wanda.

"Very gently, roll your finger under the body...rub softly in...knead it lightly."

"It's moving," Doc exclaimed, a note of alarm in his voice.

"That's good. It means you're doing it right."

Doc had no trouble removing the soul. It seemed gentleness _was_ the answer. We couldn't extract these things on our own because we'd always seen it as the enemy. Not something to be cared for, treated with delicacy, with kindness. Wanda had to teach us that.

Doc handed the soul to Ian, who held the cryotank ready. His reaction to seeing the exposed soul was similar to mine. "It's..._pretty._"

"I think so, too," Wanda replied with a touch of irony. "Let it slide into your tank."

He guided the silvery ribbon into the vessel he held, and I flipped the lid closed, showing him how to replace the latch, which would turn the light on the top red.

Wanda stared at the occupied tank across the lantern, sending little reflections all over the dark walls. She appeared less tense now, but not any happier.

What would make her happy?

Without warning, Jeb shouted, making us all jump. _"Look out!"_ He hefted his gun into position, training it on the...the stirring male Healer.

I didn't pause to think; I just moved. The empty tank fell to the floor as I dove for the cot, and the waking soul on it.

We couldn't let him get free. Or even realize what was going on. "Chloroform," I ordered, my voice turned into a booming echo by the cave.

I was pinning the soul down on his stomach, but he could still look around. Could still see Wanda's eyes making patterns by the lantern's light—only Wanda's eyes, and his.

Wanda stared at him, transfixed with horror. The two souls locked eyes.

Then he spoke. "Why?"

Wanda couldn't seem to find her voice. Not before his body went limp. Not in time to keep him from collapsing under me.

I didn't have to see his face to know what had happened. I knew.

Wanda knew, too. Her scream said it all.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's all for now, folks! Thanks for reading.<strong>

**This part of the story is difficult from Jared's perspective because it's...stagnant? This entire story, Jared has been torn, conflicted, his opinion of Wanda constantly shifting. But as of right now, the way I've written it, Jared doesn't have any new realizations or feelings about Wanda until a little later, when she finally makes the move to leave (we'll get to THAT in a few chapters! ;-)). So keeping the introspection fresh and non-repetitive is challenging. But I'm still making progress! As always, tell me what you think. :-)**

**And again,**

**Thank you for reading KylerM.**


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